The Defector

Chapters

Chapter 1: Ambush (updated)
Chapter 2: The Good Doctor
Chapter 3: Interview with a Unicorn
Chapter 4: Recovery
Chapter 5: The Night Mare
Chapter 6: Progress
Chapter 7: A New Enemy
Chapter 8: Evening the Odds
Chapter 9: Ivory Shadow
Chapter 10: Distrust
Chapter 11: Escape Plan
Chapter 12: Heat of the Moment
Chapter 13: Tale of the Rabbit
Chapter 14: Protocol Seven

Chapter 1: Ambush (updated)

"WOO! Eddies are on the run, Sergeant!" a static-y voice cracked through the headset in my ear, just seconds after the loud pops of gunfire had ended. The voice had come from a Ranger in the Humvee ahead of me, the one manning the fifty-caliber M2 machine gun affixed to the top of the vehicle. He had just finished sending out a large hail of bullets to a small group of equine militia troops that had the misfortune of running into our patrol convoy. I watched closely as the few who didn't get caught in the volley began vaulting over piles of rubble and diving into collapsed buildings, desperately trying to evade the kill-zone. Once the shooting had stopped and the dust settled, I counted four vibrantly-colored ponies on the ground. They weren't moving.

"Nice work," I replied through my radio, "Let's round the block and mop up the rest. Can't leave this place unsecured."

There was a reply of agreement, and the first Humvee began moving forward. I nodded to the driver of my Humvee, and he began following the lead vehicle. A third vehicle behind ours did the same, and the convoy traveled to the end of the block and turned right, the same direction the remaining militia had fled in. The entire time, I kept my eyes out for the one I had seen take cover in the dilapidated shell of the corner building.

"Eyes peeled, boys," I advised.

As if on cue, a canary yellow mass darted out of the building and ran full speed down the street. He tried his best to stay behind the various piles of rubble that littered the area. This time, it was the mounted gun above my head that fired, sending a ten-round burst at the fleeing enemy. The first few bullets missed, embedding themselves in the rubble, but the rest hit their target dead-on, tearing through his torso and sending him flopping to the ground. Another round of excited whoops and hollers could be heard from the gunner above me, and I could see the gunner in the lead vehicle laughing along with him.

As we continued down the road, I took a moment to survey the area around me. We were in what used to be a housing project outside of Manehattan, an Equestrian city that happened to be a high value military target. The city’s multiple industrial districts were the primary supplier of munitions to the enemy army and militia, and the city itself was highly populated. The particular sector we were in was designated as a secondary target; once the neighborhood was under our control, we could use it to launch raids on all of the factories in Manehattan, cutting off a great deal of the enemy’s supplies. During the initial fighting with the local militia, most of the buildings had been destroyed or damaged.

While I was looking around, my gaze eventually fell on the side mirror of the Humvee, where I could see myself clearly. My jet black hair was completely hidden in my tan-colored ballistic helmet, and my blue eyes were just as obscured by a pair of Oakley sunglasses that had been gifted to me by a friend in Delta Squad. He told me that I made them “work” better.

While looking in the mirror, I found one of my gloved hands go up to my chin. I normally kept it clean-shaven, but the last few days had been so hectic with near-constant patrols and drills that I had neglected to keep it trimmed. The result was a highly-visible black stubble all around the bottom of my head. The skin underneath, which had been white as snow before I was deployed, had turned to a nice, light tan in the hot Equestrian summer.

As we reached the first road intersection, I caught a glimpse of a light blue pony hop out from behind a destroyed car and slip into a building across the street from us. The front Humvee’s gunner saw it too, and he sent out a spray of lead at the equine, but the bastard was too quick. The bullets simply dug into the brick wall as the blue pony disappeared into the building. Knowing we were still on them, the convoy pressed forward.

“Hey, Blackburn,” I heard a voice in my ear. It came from the rear Humvee’s front passenger, an old high-school friend of mine that we called Pharaoh. His real name was Paul Farrell; it turned into Pharaoh in basic training, where a heavily-accented drill sergeant had mispronounced his name during the first roll-call. Needless to say, it stuck.

I picked the up the radio sitting on the dashboard, “What is it, Pharaoh?” I asked.

“Where do you think these things are running to?” he asked me.

I thought for a moment before coming up with a sarcastic answer I knew he would appreciate, “He’s probably running home to his mare. I think the summer mating season started a little while ago. He seems pretty stressed, could probably use it.”

I got a loud laugh in response. Once he calmed down, he added, “How do you know it’s a guy? I can’t tell the fucking difference.”

“It’s all in the muzzle features, Paul,” I lectured, “Stallions have squared jaws, mares have rounded ones. Once you know the difference, it’s easy to spot.”

We reached a second intersection, and spotted the same blue stallion crossing the street. Again, he was too fast for our guns to hit him, but we knew we were on the right track. The convoy kept moving slowly, the gunners and passengers being very vigilant as we searched for the remaining militia. Eventually, we reached a third intersection, but the militia were nowhere to be seen.

"Where the fuck did they go?" the gunner from the rear vehicle asked.

"Let's do a loop," I said, "Keep your eyes open. They gotta be somewhere."

The convoy again turned right, and moved down the road even slower that we had been going before. Everyone scanned the sides of the road, looking for movement. Again, we got to the intersection with no sign of them. I noticed the Rangers around me begin to tense up, and I felt myself doing the same. The militia never got away that fast. The Royal Guard could slip away like that on a good day, but never the militia. The fact that they had seemingly disappeared sent a collective chill down our spines.

"Stay sharp, guys," I tried to keep them in the moment. I didn't need them freezing up. The convoy turned right again, preparing to complete the first half of the trip around the block.

The RPG hit as soon as the rear Humvee finished rounding the corner. It struck just under the lead vehicle, sending up a huge plume of smoke, dust and shrapnel. The two tires on the right side of the vehicle popped and went flat, and the vehicle veered to the left before it stopped in the middle of the road. The tensions that had been building up all snapped at that one moment, and the headset in my ear blew up with overlapping radio transmissions as all three vehicles tried to contact outside help. Both of the remaining two turrets began firing wildly in the direction the grenade had come from, given away by the dissipating smoke trail in the air.

Without a moment's hesitation, I shouldered my door open and stepped out into the street, M4 rifle in hand. I kept my barrel pointed in the rocketeer's direction, but the M2 turrets were doing a good job of suppressing him; I didn't see any movement. I ran straight for the damaged Humvee, reaching it in no time. Just as I got there, the left rear door swung open and a very dazed Ranger stumbled out. I rushed over to him, and asked him if everybody was alright. I had to repeat myself three times before his muddled mind registered enough to respond, and what he said sent another chill down my spine.

"Powell is dead, and McGee's been hit!" the Ranger shouted over the steadily-increasing gunfire. Powell was the driver, and McGee was the M2 gunner.

I went around the Ranger to the Humvee's driver-side door. I yanked it open to find Powell slumped over the steering wheel, a steady trickle of blood flowing from a hole in his forehead. There was a bullet hole in the windshield, highlighted by a coat of splattered blood. In the back of the vehicle, McGee was leaning back into the seats as the Ranger beside him tried to patch up a bloody gash in his right forearm. There was another Ranger in the front passenger seat, holding a radio and sending a distress call out over the airwaves.

When I turned back around, the stunned Ranger had been joined by three more from the other two vehicles. They began to form a perimeter around the Humvee, trying to secure the area until we could get McGee out. One of the Rangers - Murray, from my vehicle - moved up beside me and took cover at the front of the Humvee. He shouldered his weapon, and began to peek out before a burst of bullets slammed into the metal next to him, forcing him back down. It was then I noticed the team of Royal Guard ponies huddled up on the other side of the street, in a small area that gave them a clear shot at us without risking being hit by the turret fire. One of them had his rifle leveled in our direction. I singled him out easily; he was the only orange pony among his white-furred squad mates.

Using the Humvee as cover, I peeked out and fired a few rounds from my own rifle. All of my bullets missed him by a hair, and he dove behind a large stack of broken bricks before I could get another shot off. At that point, his squad mates noticed they were being shot at, and they moved to evade the incoming fire. I squeezed off a few more rounds in an attempt to hit one, and succeeded in grazing the leg of a white pegasus as he tried following his orange friend behind the bricks. I saw his wings partially extend as he winced in pain, and caught a glimpse of a red stain on his leg before he tumbled behind cover.

I fired a few more rounds at the rubble to keep them suppressed long enough for Murray to take over. Once he began sending bullets their way with his M16, I turned back to the other Rangers to find them hauling McGee out of the vehicle. There was a bandage wrapped around his wounded arm, the bright white contrasting with the blood and the earthly colors of his camouflage. With him now out of the vehicle, I saw another bloody splotch and white bandage on his left leg. One of the Rangers supported him as the other two moved to pull Powell's body out of the damaged vehicle.

As they were dragging him out, I caught some of the distress signal the Ranger in the Humvee was sending out, "We've been ambushed at... Multiple casualties... need immediate-" The last portion of his call was cut short by a bullet that broke through the windshield in front of him. It sent shards of the layered glass at his face, tore through his skull and hit the Ranger behind him, embedding itself in the other Ranger's neck. What was left of the windshield got caked in blood, and some of it also ended up on one of the other nearby soldiers. The sudden pelting of body fluid startled the two trying to lift Powell, and they jumped, causing Powell's body to fall to the ground at my feet.

"Sniper!" Murray shouted. I followed his pointing hand to see a figure in the window of a building down the road. There was a flash of light, and a very loud gunshot immediately after. I instinctively crouched down to dodge the incoming shot, only to get sprayed with warm blood from a hole that suddenly appeared in Murray's upper torso. I switched my M4 to burst-fire mode and sent a few rounds of suppression fire downrange before ordering what was left of my makeshift fire team to move back to the convoy.

We got about halfway back to my Humvee before the Royal Guard ponies from before began returning fire on us. The M2 gunner that had been suppressing them had shifted his fire to the sniper, giving the equine soldiers the opportunity to get us back for killing their comrades. Their first shots were meant to scatter us - as far as I could tell anyway - so they didn't hit anyone. Myself and a Ranger named Dixon fired back as we tried to make it to the relative safety of the armored vehicles, but it didn't stop the ponies from continuing their attack.

Their next volley was more focused, and two of their shots nailed Dixon in his chest plate. His armor took them, but the sudden force knocked him onto his back. I took a knee and went through half of my magazine suppressing them long enough for Dixon to regain his footing. By then, the others had made it back to the Humvee with McGee, and were loading him into the back seat. We met up with them and formed a defensive half-circle around the left side of the Humvee.

I focused my attention on the Guard ponies hiding behind the rubble. Instead of continuing my suppression, however, I waited. After a moment, one of them emerged from behind cover to fire on us. Before he could line up his shot, I sent a burst his way. One of the bullets caught him in the eye, and he fell back and out of view while a shower of crimson droplets rained onto the bricks in front of him. I attempted to send a second burst as added suppression against his friends, but the telltale click of an empty weapon was all I got. I ejected the empty mag and opened up a vest pouch for a fresh one when a sudden explosion turned my attention to the action behind me.

The rear Humvee was completely obscured in a cloud of smoke and fire. A faint trail of smoke led from the gunner position on the vehicle up to an open fourth-story window across the street. The trail ended at the empty barrel of an RPG launcher that stuck out of the window, carried by an all-black unicorn wearing Royal Guard armor. Small plumes of dust began forming in the stone around him, and he ducked back inside. Dixon and another Ranger had shot at him frantically, but missed.

Forgetting my empty rifle for the moment, I rounded the remaining Humvee to the front passenger seat. The door was still open. I climbed inside and grabbed the radio that was sitting on the dashboard.

"Zulu Two-One to Fortress," I began my distress call as calmly as I could manage, "We have lost two vehicles and are under heavy fire. Multiple casualties. We cannot move from our position. Request reinforcements and air support! Over."

The broken reply came not a moment later, "*static* -opy Zulu Two-One... *static* -ound units inbou-... *static* -annot send any air sup-... *static* Hold for... *static* The transmission dropped immediately after.

"Negative copy, Fortress, repeat your last, over," I said into the radio. I only received static in response, "Fortress, do you copy?"

Bullets slamming into the windshield brought me back into the moment. The laminated glass deflected the rifle rounds easily, but there were huge white circles where the rounds hit, and all of the glass around each impact cracked so much that we couldn't see a thing beyond the windshield. In other words, we weren't going anywhere in it.

I got out of the Humvee and rushed to the first bit of cover I saw, which was the doorway of a mostly intact brick building on the right-hand side of the street. A few bullets zipped past my head as I went, prompting me to go faster. Once I reached the door, I shouldered up against the outer wall and prepared to start leaning out. It was then that I remembered my dry gun, and I took a second to reload. As I was pulling back on the bolt, I heard Dixon shouting at me.

"Do we have support incoming?" he asked over the ever-increasing hail of gunfire around us.

"I don't fucking know!" I shouted back, venting a bit of my anger with my tone, "Radio's gone dead, I can't raise 'em!"

"Fuck...!" I heard Dixon venting a bit of his own frustration.

The firefight continued for a few moments with no further communication. Both sides had resorted to taking pot-shots every now and again, with nobody actually hitting anything. The M2 gunner on the Humvee was frantically shifting his fire from the Guard ponies, to the sniper's nest, to the RPG-launching unicorn's position behind him, his bursts getting shorter and shorter as he tried not to burn through his ammunition too quickly.

The sniper, somehow still alive, made the first game-changing move. He waited until the gunner's turret was firing on the RPG position. I couldn't see him, but I recognized the powerful boom of his weapon. Immediately following it was the windshield of the last Humvee shattering and the entire passenger's compartment turning dark red. The gunner suddenly started screaming in pain and slipped down inside of the vehicle. I jumped out of cover and immediately began suppressing the Guards with a flurry of single shots. I heard two Rangers move to the Humvee, trying to get to the wounded inside. From my spot, I could see that Dixon had stayed at the position he had taken up across the street, behind a burnt-out pickup truck. He had begun firing wildly at the sniper's nest, trying to prevent another deadly round from being fired.

The Guard ponies struck next. They couldn't fire at us without catching a bullet from me, but they did use something I never expected them to have. In the middle of my suppression, I noticed a small, round object fly out from behind the pile of bricks. It soared high before falling back down, landing on the opposite side of the Humvee. I heard it bounce twice before coming to a stop. I heard Dixon give out a warning, but the grenade went off before anyone could react. The irregular gunfire was replaced with the agonizing screams from Rangers who had been close enough to catch the shrapnel. I flicked my rifle back into burst-mode and emptied my magazine towards the hidden equines in a fit of rage. Once my gun went dry, I hopped back into cover and reloaded.

Finally, just as I began to peek out and resume my shooting, the RPG unicorn made is move. Again, I didn't see him, but the telltale whoosh of a rocket-propelled grenade told me exactly what was going to happen. In an attempt to shield myself from the upcoming blast, I dove back into my cover by the door.

Unfortunately, it did little to help. The grenade slammed into the top of the Humvee next to me, turning it into a storm of fire, dust, and shards of metal. I felt myself get blown back into the door, my ballistic helmet colliding with the glass and cracking it. I felt my M4 leave my hands and fly off in a random direction. My mind also registered a very intense pain in my abdomen. A pain that stung, ached and burned all at the same time, like I had been stabbed with Satan's pitchfork.

Once the shock-wave from the explosion let me go, gravity picked up right where it left off, and I fell onto the cold concrete. My mind struggled to take in the information around it. All I could register were the faint sounds of gunshots, a ringing in my ears, and the pain. The pain was the most noticeable thing at the moment.

I fought myself to open my eyes, and I caught a glimpse of Dixon in the middle of the road. He was shooting his M16 wildly, trying to copy the M2 gunner's last strategy of firing at all of the targets' positions at once. It worked about as well for Dixon as it had for the gunner. In no time, several rifle rounds impacted his chest, and knocked him onto the ground. He struggled to get back up, until another bullet caught him in his unprotected hip. I saw one of the Guard ponies - the orange one from earlier, who I could now see was a pegasus - stroll up to him with a rifle in his hands. I saw Dixon draw his pistol and try to shoot the pegasus, and receive a bullet to the brain immediately.

In my dazed, muddled state, I found myself trying to crawl to him. It didn't register that he was dead; just that he needed help. My mind blocked out the equines gathering around me. It blocked out the smoldering piles of debris that used to be our patrol convoy. It blocked out the blood and brain matter that leaked out of Dixon's skull. It blocked out the white and orange hands that grabbed onto me and picked me up. It blocked out the medical stretcher they set me on. The only thing my mind was willing to register was that my friend needed help.

And I tried. I truly tried. In my wounded, dazed, confused state of being, I tried. But I was no longer moving of my own accord; the ponies were carrying me away on a stretcher. So, as his lifeless corpse shrank away into the distance, all I could do was reach out a bloodied hand towards him.

I blacked out after that.

Author's Note

Holy balls, what a way to kick this thing off!

So, there it is, the first chapter of The Defector. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it. I gotta say, I'm proud of how this turned out.

Now, I know this chapter was a bit heavy on the military aspect of the story, and the violence meter was set pretty high. I will say right now that it won't be like this for the entire story. The elements will still be there, but once I can mix in the other aspects of the story, it should balance out pretty well. Fingers crossed, anyway.

Also, as for the realism of the action sequence, I know for a fact it isn't 100% realistic, but I did research what I could to get it as close as possible. It's not going to ever be 100% in my stories, but what medium truly ever is? I try to keep it as realistic as possible, but sometimes the story works better with a little cinematic, Hollywood-style not giving a shit. I know this warning was a bit preemptive, but I'd rather avoid the usual "That's not how it works!" comments I usually see on the internet when combat is involved in some way. Trust me; I usually am that guy, so I know where you're coming from. Just roll with it and try to enjoy the experience.

Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated. Thanks again for reading.

Chapter 2: The Good Doctor

When I came to, the world around me was dark. It was a great struggle to open my eyes, and when I finally managed to crack them open, a blinding light above me forced them shut again. The only thing worse than the headache it gave me was the stinging pain in my side. Combined with the dull aching that covered the rest of my body, I could almost swear I was dead. A part of me wished I was dead. Maybe then the pain would go away. But it stayed, a constant reminder that I was indeed still alive, and unsure how I got into this situation.

Muffled voices pulled my attention away from my pain. They sounded so distant; I couldn't make out what was being said, or if I recognized them. As I slowly, painfully eased my eyes open, I was able to take in more of the room. It was a completely concrete structure, with a single light in the center of the ceiling. There were two figures standing by a rectangular shape I could only assume was a doorway. My vision was blurred, so I couldn't make out any details, but the silhouettes showed them to have equine features.

Despite my pain, my instincts took over and tried getting me up, only for me to find my arms and legs locked in place. The dull ache around my wrists and ankles increased to a stinging pain as what felt like leather straps tightened around them. I sighed angrily and relaxed my muscles. Somehow, the bastards had gotten me. At first, I was unsure how they did, until the image of Dixon getting a round to the face flashed through my mind. Suddenly, everything came back to me all at once. Dixon, Murray, McGee, Powell... they were all dead.

And the bastards responsible were standing in a doorway not ten feet away from me.

One of the figures shifting brought me back from my memories. As it got closer, my vision slowly returned to normal, and I found myself staring at a dark brown earth pony in a doctor's coat. He was looking down at me, and... Was he smiling? He was. He gave me a warm, kind smile as he looked me in the eye.

"Good to see you've finally woken up," he said to me, the smile never leaving his muzzle, "I was worried you had gone comatose on us."

"You shouldn't stand so close, doctor," I heard the second equine say from the doorway, "It's still dangerous."

"Nonsense!" the brown pony retorted, "He is a patient, and I shall treat him as such. Besides, there isn't much he can do whilst strapped to his bed." He gestured toward my bound arms with one hand.

The doctor spoke in a light, kind voice, with an accent I could best describe as lightly English. Beneath his doctor's coat, I saw he was wearing street clothes: a pair of faded blue jeans and a white polo shirt. His fur was completely brown, apart from his hands, which were jet black. One of them was holding onto a wooden clipboard.

"Now, I'm sure you are wondering where you are?" the doctor said, his attention again on me. I found myself unable to speak, so I simply nodded my head weakly, a move that still sent a fresh jolt of pain down my spinal cord, "You are in a hospital, being treated for some serious body trauma. You took a fair bit of shrapnel in that explosion. It took a long time to get all of the pieces out."

The image of the Humvee being destroyed flashed through my mind again. Finally finding my voice, I asked what I thought was the most important question at that moment, "Did... did anybody else...?"

"I'm afraid not," the brown pony said, the smile finally fading, replaced with a look of sadness and pity, "We managed to get you and one other out of the battlefield - a man who identified as 'Edward Collins' before he passed out. We did what we could, but he... bled out while we were operating."

Collins... I remembered seeing him during the fight. He was the one who had patched McGee up and carried him to the other Humvee. I had figured the grenade took him out. I guess it did in the end.

"I am truly sorry for his death," the doctor added. The thing that caught me off-guard was that he did seem genuinely upset. It threw me for a loop, and I found myself unable to reply. I just stared up at him, a look of confusion plastered on my face. It must have been obvious, because he felt the need to add on, "Please do not think that we are all the heartless monsters your leaders paint us as. I care for all of my patients, whether they be human or pony."

"A sentiment not many are keen to share, doctor," the pony from the doorway butted in.

"Precisely!" he replied, turning away from me to face the door, "Which is exactly why more of us need to start. The more we play into the humans' stereotypes about us, captain, the more ammunition they have against us, and the longer this war will draw out. Something I assure you nopony wants."

"I'm not too sure about that one doctor," the "captain" replied. He then moved out of the shadowy doorway to stand at the foot of my bed, allowing me to see him. He was a white unicorn, wearing a very ornate Royal Guard uniform, minus the helmet, "Now can you please finish up here so I can conduct my interview with the prisoner?"

God, this guy sounded like a fucking frat boy in college, how the hell was he a captain?

"Patient, captain," the doctor corrected, "He is my patient, and will be referred to as such for as long as he is under my care. Once he is transferred to the military prison in Cloudsdale, you can call him a prisoner, but until then, he is a patient. Understand?"

Th frat captain gave out a heavy sigh before replying, "Yes, doctor. Now, can you please finish up with the 'patient' so I can conduct my interview?"

"Yes, yes, of course," the doctor waved his hand dismissively at the unicorn, "But I have a few questions of my own to ask first. Could you please step outside a moment? Can't break the 'doctor/patient confidentiality,' can we?"

The captain opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself. He sighed angrily before marching out the door, which he slammed shut.

"I apologize for him," the doctor said, his attention again turned back to me, "Some ponies lose their sense of compassion in trying times such as these. Some more than others, but who could blame them? Now, let's begin a cursory examination now that you're awake. Do you feel any pain?"

I told him exactly where, which was everywhere, but focused just above my left hip. He informed me that I had taken a large chunk of metal shrapnel to the abdomen. It was by far the largest piece of shrapnel he had removed, but there were many smaller silvers of metal that pelted my body as well. The shock wave and impact with the door had also left me with several bruises and a hairline fracture on my left leg. Basically, I was going to be under his care for awhile.

He gave me a few painkillers - helping me sit up enough to swallow them - and while we waited for them to kick in, he examined the more serious wounds on my body. He also started asking me a few questions while he worked. It started out innocently, with him asking my name, where I was from... the usual doctor-to-patient small talk you would get from a routine check-up. Somehow, he managed to lower my guard. So much so, that his latest question threw me off.

"I feel I must ask, sergeant, what exactly were you doing in the middle of a destroyed housing project in Manehattan?"

I almost answered him truthfully, but managed to catch myself. Telling an enemy the details of a mission while captured was extremely dangerous. My Ranger training would not allow me to go that far, and I tried to make it obvious to him, "I'm afraid that's classified, doctor."

"Very well, I won't pry. I'm sure Captain Armor will already pry plenty for both of us," he waved his hand again. The warm smile from before had returned on his face, "But I assure you, anything you say will not leave this room if it's only me here to listen. I take the confidentiality very seriously. I just figured it would be nice to discuss what happened, to lift any unnecessary weights on your chest."

"The concern is appreciated, doctor," I replied, keeping my tone professional, "But I ask that you keep in mind, I will not risk putting my fellow soldiers in danger. I will not answer any questions about our operations."

"I understand perfectly, sergeant. Though, I doubt Captain Armor will share my sentiment."

"Do I look like I give a fuck what that frat boy thinks?"

"Fair enough," the doctor shrugged his shoulders, and continued his work.

By then, the painkillers had kicked in, and the only thing I could still feel was the wound in my abdomen, but it had dulled to a weak ache. The doctor worked in silence for a few moments as he replaced a few small bandages on my right leg. He had removed the strap on my right ankle to allow himself freedom to work, but left the others intact. After awhile, the silence was broken by another one of the doctor's questions.

"So tell me, how long have you been in the military?" he asked, "You seem fairly young to be a sergeant."

"I'm not that young, I'm twenty-two," I replied. I hesitated to answer the first half of his inquiry, but figured there would be no harm in it, "And I've been in the army since I left high school. Got into the Rangers at nineteen."

"How long have you been a sergeant?"

"About a year now."

"And how did you accomplish such a feat?"

"By being damn good at my job," I gave him a confident smirk.

"Well, I suppose one would have to be," he chuckled lightly as he finished with my leg and reapplied the restraint. He was about to move up to my arm, but stopped himself, "I'm afraid the captain is going to have to return for this portion."

"Damn, fun time's over," I sarcastically replied as he made his way to the door. A moment later, he returned, followed by the white-furred unicorn from before.

"Standard procedure, I'm afraid," the doctor told me. He nodded to the captain, who shocked me by drawing a pistol and aiming it at my head. Once the doctor received a nod back, he began undoing the restraints on my right arm.

"Don't try anything, human," Captain Frat - sorry, "Armor" - warned me, "I won't hesitate if you do."

I hadn't planned on doing anything in the first place; I found that I actually kind of liked the doctor. But I understood. While I thought the methods were excessive, I understood, and nodded curtly at the captain.

The awkward silence that followed was excruciating. The doctor worked on the bandages as quickly as he could, but it wasn't fast enough. In my tense boredom, I found my eyes wandering to the weapon aimed at my skull, and realized I recognized it.

"Is that a TT-33?" I asked the captain, which caught him off-guard.

"I-I'm, not sure..." he stuttered.

"What does it say on the slide?"

He turned the gun sideways and looked at it, "I-I've no idea. It has a fifty-four and... some weird symbols."

"So, a Chinese copy, then," I said, more of a statement than a question. It was very common for Equestrian forces to carry Chinese and Russian surplus weapons "gifted" by the "generous" nations. In reality, it was them dumping some of their old shit on a nation they thought they could manipulate and control if they won the war. I was always seeing the Equestrian militia carrying Chinese-made AKs, but I had always thought the Royal Guard would be better equipped, being Equestria's proper military and all. Guess I was wrong.

"And... there!" the doctor suddenly said, "Only one more arm, and we're done."

He replaced the strap on my arm and rounded the bed. As he began working on my final limb, I found my gaze returning to the captain. He was still aiming his pistol at me, but his grip was looser. His formerly piercing gaze had relaxed. I tried to resist the childish urge to mess with him.

"That gun's going to fly back into your face with you holding it like that, frat boy."

I failed. Miserably.

He tensed up a bit at the sudden verbal jab. Once he realized what I was talking about, he grabbed onto the weapon with both hands and straightened his arms up as much as he could. He also returned to his sharp facial expression, but this time with a bit of red to his face. I guess he didn't like being made to look foolish.

"And done!" the doctor again interrupted as he finished fastening the restraint. He gave the captain another nod, who then slipped his weapon back into its holster, "He's all yours, captain. Try to go easy on him, would you?"

"I'll do my best, doctor," the captain replied, though he was giving me a subtle smirk as he said it. I could tell I wasn't going to like this.

"Well, then, I must go see to a few other patients," the doctor started toward the door. When he opened the door, he turned back to add, "Try not to kill each other while I'm gone, okay?"

As soon as the door shut, the captain's smile grew wider, "No promises."

I really wasn't going to like this.

Chapter 3: Interview with a Unicorn

"What is your name?"

"James Blackburn."

"Military rank and division?"

"Sergeant. U.S. Army. Seventy-Fifth Ranger Regiment."

"Birthplace?"

It went back and forth like that for a few minutes. The captain - who introduced himself as Shining Armor once the doctor left - was sitting in a metal folding chair across the room, writing my answers down on a clipboard. From my forced prone position on the hospital bed, I couldn't see him very clearly, so I was simply staring at the blank concrete ceiling as I answered. Once he got all of the personal information he needed, he got up from the chair and crossed the room to stand just at the foot of the bed. He eyed me for a moment, and I forfeited my staring contest with the ceiling to return his gaze.

"Now that we have become as acquainted as we need to be," he began pacing the floor in front of my bed, "Tell me..."

"If you're going to ask about my mission, don't bother," I interrupted, "I'm not telling you a damn thing."

"I figured as much," the captain shrugged and continued his pacing, "To be honest, I didn't expect you to. I know better than to think a highly trained soldier like yourself would give away such sensitive information to your enemy."

"Then, what exactly do you intend to ask, captain?" I pondered out loud.

"What I want to know..." he paused his words as well as his pacing, stopping just in front of my bed, "Is what you think about all of this."

I raised an eyebrow at the captain, "About all of.. what, exactly?"

"The war, sergeant," he resumed his pacing, "What are your thoughts on the war? What is the point of it? Where do you see it going?"

I stayed silent for a moment as I ran his questions through my head. What I thought of it? I had never really considered it. I was too busy fighting the war to bother with that kind of thinking. After a moment of debating with myself, I looked up at the captain and said, "Do you want my opinion or what I'm told to believe?"

"I asked for your thoughts, Sergeant Blackburn," Captain Armor raised his clipboard and looked at me.

"I wasn't trained to think, captain," I said, eyeing him without a hint of emotion, "I was trained to kill. I don't question my orders or my mission. So long as it doesn't disrupt my moral code or violate the Geneva Convention, I just do what I am told. End of discussion."

"Oh come on," the captain gave me a discerning look, "You're telling me you've never wondered why you were here? While you watched your fellow soldiers kill and die, you never stopped to ask what they were sacrificing their lives for; what they were killing for?"

I stayed silent for a few seconds before replying, "I learned a long time ago that those kinds of questions are useless while you're fighting. All they are good for is freezing you up. They are the ones you ask after, not during."

"Humor me, then. Consider this interview your 'after,'" he looked at me expectantly. Humor him, huh?

"What do you want to know?"

He gave a slight smile, "Alright, let's start from the beginning. What do you think caused this mess in the first place?"

I thought for a moment. The only thing I could think of was what I saw on the news; all of the events that led up to the war, "Well, officially, that NATO Covert Unit getting caught operating in Canterlot was what got it all to boil over... but I'd have to say the tensions from your open alliance with Russia and China is what started the fire."

"Your country doesn't like them much, I assume?"

"China's mostly okay, apart from their strict communism. Russia is pretty much America's overly-attached ex, doing everything they can to get our attention."

"That's... an interesting way to word it," the captain said, raising an eyebrow.

"If you knew the history, you'd understand."

"Alright then, moving on..." the captain again resumed his pacing. Seems like he had trouble standing still; that, or he was just trying to distract me, "What do you think of the war's progression so far? Who's winning?"

I silently recalled the war's major battles, and who could be considered the victor in each. Appleloosa and Dodge City, being closest to the portal and unprepared for attack, fell to NATO easily early on in the war. Then there was an ill-fated attack on Ponyville where French and British troops got their asses handed to them by a Royal Guard battalion. At the same time, American troops pushed for Baltimare and took the city after a long, hard fight. While the European soldiers regrouped and pushed for Las Pegasus, us Rangers deployed from Baltimare to the farmland between Fillydelphia and Manehattan, and set up a few outposts. From there, artillery was moved in and we began a drawn-out battle for Manehattan. From what I knew, neither Manehattan or Las Pegasus had fallen yet. They were both active war-zones.

I tallied the points in my head. Two for NATO - I counted Appleloosa and Dodge City as one, given how easily they were taken - one for the natives, and two still pending. I didn't know how Las Pegasus was going, but Manehattan was nowhere close to being considered "secured." In fact, the militia had been kicking our ass in multiple neighborhoods. They used Viet-Cong-like guerrilla tactics, except with rubble instead of jungle. The Rangers could handle it well enough most of the time, but other divisions weren't having the same luck, and it showed. The neighborhood my squad had been tasked with securing was actually our last-ditch effort to break the city. Guess we failed on that one, then.

"I would have to say... neither at the moment," I responded after a lot of thought. I gave a very brief explanation, omitting the part about Manehattan not being close to falling.

"Okay, so, taking that into consideration, where do you see it going?" the captain asked after writing something on his clipboard.

"Thinking logically..." I thought hard about my answer, "This seems like it will go the same way the last few of our conflicts have. Stalemates and withdrawals. Once the civilian population gets tired of the fighting, our politicians will negotiate something to make both sides look like winners, and we move on until we piss somebody else off. Or, they just pull us out, leaving our local allies to finish where we left off, and we move on until we piss somebody else off."

"Local allies?"

"Guess that one doesn't apply to us here, does it?"

"Guess not," the captain stopped in front of my bed yet again, and placed his hands on the mattress, leaning forward, "Lastly, what do you think the point of it is? What's the end-game for your side?"

"I've no fucking clue, come to think of it," I admitted, "I guess it's an honor thing? That task force in Canterlot made us look bad, so we gotta prove to both worlds that we're top dog."

"How heroic of you," he said sarcastically, a smirk crossing his muzzle.

"Not every war is the classic good versus evil, captain," I smirked back at him.

Captain Armor stood up straight and wrote down something on his clipboard, then began walking towards the door, "The doctor will be back in a moment. A guard will be posted by the door until he gets back. Try not to piss him off, he doesn't like humans too much."

The captain reached and opened the door and, as he left, a dark grey pegasus in Royal Guard armor entered in his place. The guard closed the door after his commanding officer, and then stood at attention next to it. I took a moment to survey his features. His jaw was a bit broader than average, and he was heavily built. He actually reminded me of one of my squad-mates, Hudson. Hudson had been in the convoy, in the rear Humvee. Once the image of the vehicle being engulfed in fire flashed through my mind, I found myself staring up at the ceiling again. In my solitude, the events of that afternoon had finally sunk in, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Scratch that, a mountain of bricks. My breathing became a bit irregular as I listed off every fallen comrade in my head. At the end, I remembered Pharaoh, and his loss is what finally broke me. I felt a small tear fall down my face as I began recalling some of our antics in high school. He was my best friend, and now he was gone.

What the fuck were we doing here?

Shining Armor walked down the hospital's well-lit hallway, clipboard in hand and a smile on his face. He walked by a group of three nurse mares, and nodded to them as he passed. He was in a good mood. The interview with the human was successful, as he'd hoped it would be. He may not have gained any real intel, but he found out one thing. A very important bit of knowledge he couldn't wait to share with the doctor.

Shining eventually found the stallion he was looking for, inside a patient's room conversing with a militastallion who had to have his leg amputated after an explosion rendered it completely dead. Shining knocked on the open door to get the doctor's attention. Once the doctor looked back, he gave Shining a nod and excused himself from the patient. Shining led him to a nearby empty room and shut the door behind them. Once they were alone, the doctor wasted no time.

"Well, how did it go?" he asked curiously, with a hint of nervousness.

"Went well, doc," Shining said smugly, "The medicine you gave him worked fine. Once I slipped past his mental wall, he answered every question I threw at him."

"Did he tell you about Manehattan?" the doctor asked.

"No. I tried to steer away from those questions for this session. Instead, I asked his opinion on the war. He was surprisingly... neutral about it."

The doctor still looked nervous, and maybe a little... upset, "I hope it will prove to be worth the effort, captain. I'm not sure I fully agree with drugging him for answers. Are you sure the princess authorized this?"

"As far as I know, doctor," Captain Armor shrugged, "She never talked to me directly, but the general assured me it was approved. I'm just following orders at this point."

"I'm still uneasy about all of this. Are you not?"

"A bit. But the way I see it, the sooner we end this war, the better. And if coaxing information out of a human soldier can help make that happen, I'm all for it."

"I'm still unsure..." the doctor brought one of his jet-black hands to his chin and began stroking it absentmindedly.

"Well, don't dwell on it, doc," the captain walked over and handed over the clipboard, "You just focus on keeping him alive and recovering. I'll handle the interviews."

The doctor nodded, "Very well. I should go tend to him, then."

As the doctor moved to exit the empty room, the captain added, "Oh, and doc? I must advise you not to get too attached to the human. Once he's healed enough, he's on his way to the prison camp. Understand?"

"All too well, captain..." the doctor didn't even glance back before exiting the room. As he walked down the hall towards Sergeant Blackburn's room, he looked over the interview results on the clipboard. The captain was right, his answers were very neutral. As if it were an outsider looking in. With the "enhanced" pain medication, he seemed to have a very logical mind when directed. Still, the doctor couldn't shoo away the feeling of uneasiness, of guilt.

The captain's words echoed in the doctor's mind as he reached Blackburn's room, "I must advise you not to get too attached..."

It might be too late for that, captain, the doctor thought as he opened the door and entered his patient's room.

Chapter 4: Recovery

It had been two weeks since my interview with Captain Armor. I didn't see him at all afterwards. I saw the doctor a lot, though. He came by at least once every hour, checking the bandages, administering painkillers, and just talking to me. My only constant company was one of two guards that alternated six-hour shifts watching me; the grey pegasus in the morning and late afternoon, and a white unicorn at noon and through the night. Apart from them, the only pony that came by was a baby-blue nurse mare who brought my meals. I wasn't allowed to leave the room, so she would bring my food during mealtimes.

The doctor kept me informed of how the war was going. Apparently, my ambushed convoy was NATO's last chance at taking Manehattan, because the city was still safely in Equestrian control, and the fighting had died down significantly. I couldn't help but wonder how long they kept trying before giving up, and what they would try next. Turning around and taking Fillydelphia, perhaps?

My wounds had slowly begun to heal, hastened by magic every few days. My leg was almost strong enough to walk on, and the gash in my side was little more than a scar. The doctor began muscle exercises a few days ago, and was allowing me to sit up without the arm restraints. Sometimes he would undo all of the straps and let me test my leg, but I always ended up kneeling on the floor. I wasn't there yet, but he assured me I would be fully healed soon.

We had just finished up the day's exercises, and the doctor was in the middle of re-donning the leg restraints. He worked in silence. In fact, he hadn't been very talkative today at all, which was unusual for him. We usually conversed every minute, talking about the war, and then when that got old we talked about our families. I had recently learned he was the father of a filly, who was living with relatives in Ponyville while he worked in the hospital full-time. Most days, he would go on and on about her. Not today, though. Today he was silent.

"Something on your mind, doc?" I asked him as he finished up with my right leg restraint.

He jumped a bit when I spoke, as if coming out of a trance. He then looked at me, "No, James, nothing at all."

"You sure?" I pressed, unconvinced, "You've been... really quiet today."

"Have I?" he looked nervous.

"Yeah," I kept going, "Normally, we'd be talking about your girl right now. How is she?" Maybe getting him talking would get him to open up a bit.

"She... she's fine, James," the doctor finished up with the restraints and walked around my bed, "Are... are you in any pain at all, sergeant?"

"No, none at all," I replied cautiously. Why the sudden topic change?

"Are you sure? Would you like some painkillers anyway, just in case?"

"I'm fine, doc," I said. Getting a bit irritated, I stopped beating around the bush, "Doc, something's wrong, I can tell. What's going on? You can tell me."

"I-it's nothing major, sergeant," the doctor waved his hand dismissively, though he looked like he was shaking a bit as well.

"It doesn't seem like nothing," I pressed, "Whatever it is, it's got you freaked out. Come on doc, you can tell me. We're friends, right?"

"I... I suppose we are, yes," he sighed in defeat, "Captain Armor is stopping by in a moment. He's conducting another interview with you."

"That's it? Frat Boy's coming by?" I laughed a bit, "What's so worrying about that?"

"Well, nothing really... but..." he paused, thinking over his words, "I'm just not sure why he would conduct an interview after so much time."

"Who knows? I'm sure we'll find out when he gets here," I reached up and patted his shoulder, "It'll be fine, doc. Trust me, I can handle whatever that unicorn can throw at me."

"I hope you are correct, James," the doctor gave me a somber look, "Well, I must leave for a moment. Captain Armor may be here by the time I return."

"I'll be fine, doc," I said as he left the room. Once he left, it was just me and the pegasus guard. He was in his usual position, standing at attention by the door and staring straight ahead, "What do you think, Greyhound?" I asked him, using the nickname I had given him the week before, "Any idea what the captain wants to ask?" He just looked at me and shrugged in response.

The doctor walked through the hospital hallways, trying hard not to look frantic as he searched for Shining Armor. He had to find him. The doctor had failed, and the captain had to be informed. His interview couldn't happen as planned. It would have to be postponed, or cancelled completely. A part of the doctor prayed for the latter. The same part responsible for the guilty feeling in his gut. A feeling he had suppressed for the past two weeks.

The doctor eventually found the captain as he was conversing with one of his sergeants. Once the captain noticed the doctor, he dismissed the sergeant and walked over. Without a word, the doctor led him to a nearby empty room and shut the door.

"Is something wrong, doctor?" the captain asked.

"I'm afraid so," the doctor took a breath before continuing, "Sergeant Blackburn refused the painkillers. He's healed enough that he doesn't need them anymore."

"You're fucking with me, right?" Captain Armor asked in disbelief.

"I'm afraid not, captain. Sergeant Blackburn is not able to participate in your interview. Not the way you want him to, anyway."

The captain sighed, exasperated, "Shit... this is a problem, doctor."

"Indeed. What do you intend to do?" the doctor asked, silently praying for him to just give it up.

The captain waited a moment before responding, "I'll think of something. For now... just continue as you've been. He's almost recovered, right?"

"Yes," the doctor nodded, "I would guess another week or so until he's fully healed, and then a few more days restrengthening his leg. He should be fine to leave after that."

"Alright. I might just hold off until after his transfer, then. Slip the chemicals into a drink, perhaps," Captain Armor thought out loud.

"So, as far as today's interview is concerned..." the doctor looked at him, barely hiding a hopeful look.

"Canceled. I got too much on my plate anyways, so I guess this is a blessing in disguise."

The doctor titled his head a bit, giving the captain a curious look, "Did something happen?"

"You know Blackburn's other guard? The unicorn?"

"Vaguely, yes."

"His brother was killed in combat this morning. He's leaving for Canterlot for the funeral, so I gotta bring in one of the newbies from Ponyville to take his spot."

"Will the sergeant have a guard tonight?" the doctor asked, his worries momentarily forgotten given this new dilemma.

"Yes, he will," the captain replied, "She should be getting off the train now, actually. I sent one of my sergeants to pick her up."

"Have you met her? Do you think they will be... tolerant around each other?"

"No, I haven't, and I'm afraid I won't," Captain Armor sighed, "I have to go to Canterlot as well. The general wants an oral progress report, but doesn't want to make the trip over. Says the hospital is too close to the front lines to be safe for officers."

"He's fine with sending you here, though."

"I know."

After about five full minutes of silently laying back in my bed, the doctor returned. I could tell immediately that he was in a much better mood; he was smiling and greeted me warmly, completely back to normal. I also noticed that Captain Armor wasn't with him. Curious about the unicorn's absence, I asked the doctor about it.

"I'm afraid he has... more pressing matters to attend to," the doctor said. While he spoke, he walked up to the side of my bed and helped me sit up, "He is leaving for Canterlot soon, and he won't be back for another week."

"Something urgent?" I asked as the doctor checked the gash on my side, which was nothing more than a scar now, just one more to add to my ever-growing collection of them. Soon it would be just another war story to share with strangers in bars, another trophy to show off to whatever chick I was trying to impress that night.

"Nothing too urgent," the doctor replied, "His commanding officer wishes to speak to him, but is afraid to come down here himself," I just nodded knowingly in response.

The doctor continued his work in silence for a moment, but without the nervous atmosphere that surrounded him before he left. Seeing it, I had to wonder why he was so nervous about Shining Armor's interview. Was he worried we would end up at each other's throats? I can't see why; apart from him messing with me at the start of the first interview, we didn't really argue. Then again, I didn't really remember much about the actual interview. Something about my thoughts on the war? No telling what I said to him.

"Oh, by the way," the doctor said, snapping me out of my thoughts, "Your normal night guard is being replaced tonight."

"Replaced? Why?" I asked curiously.

"He also has to leave for Canterlot. His brother was... killed," some of the doctor's depression returned as he spoke.

"Damn," I said. The room was silent for a moment, until I asked, "So, who's the new guy?"

"I'm not sure," he checked a watch on his wrist, "She should be arriving soon, though. It's almost time for shift change. I'm sure you two can get acquainted after dinner."

"Speaking of..." I grabbed his arm and moved it so i could read the watch. Since I did it so often, he didn't resist, and Greyhound didn't even flinch. I looked at the old-school analogue watch. It was ten minutes until seven, "Baby Blue should be here soon, right?"

"She should, yes," the doctor nodded, taking his arm back, "Would you like to move to the table before she gets here?"

I nodded, and with Greyhound's assistance, they helped me to a small wooden table across the room. It had been brought in the week before, after my wounds had healed enough that I could sit up with little pain. The table was paired with two wooden chairs, positioned on opposite sides. Some days, the doctor would sit and eat with me, continuing whatever conversation we had been in that day. Once I was seated at the table, the doctor sat across from me. Moments later, the blue nurse came in with a rolling cart. On top of the cart were two meals from the cafeteria, each consisting of a small bowl of salad, something the ponies called a "daisy sandwich," a small apple, and a glass of water.

"Still no meat, huh?" I asked half-jokingly as the nurse set the food down in front of us. She just sighed and shook her head before leaving the room.

We ate quietly for a while. Since I learned my first day here that daisy sandwiches were not compatible with the human body, I tossed it to Greyhound. He wasn't allowed to leave the room either until shift change, so he always took it. He nodded a thanks and scarfed it down quickly. After a bit, I decided to inquire about this new guard.

"So, doc, about this newbie," I began in between bites of salad, "You know anything about her?"

"Not much," he replied as he wiped his muzzle with a napkin, "Captain Armor didn't know much about her, either. Just that she's from Ponyville, and only just graduated from training."

"So, a greenhorn?" I huffed a laugh, "Great. A new rookie to fuck with."

"I advise against harassing her, James," the doctor warned, "There is a very real possibility that her opinions on human soldiers are... less than neutral."

"True, but Frat Boy said the same thing about the other two, and we've gotten along just fine," I waved a bit to the pegasus standing by the door, "Ain't that right, Greyhound?" He nodded.

"Nevertheless, please refrain from upsetting her," the doctor pleaded, "At least make the attempt to be civil, alright? For everypony's sake."

"I can't promise anything, doc. You know how I am," I replied with a smirk.

"Unfortunately, I do. All too well," he said, slowly shaking his head.

Another moment of quiet passed before I asked, "You know her name?"

"I believe the captain said it was..."

Chapter 5: The Night Mare

Rainbow Dash couldn't believe her bad luck. Six months of grueling training - six months - and she ends up being posted to a hospital on the boring side of Manehattan. When she joined the Royal Guard, she was promised adventure! Excitement! Glory and heroism on par with that of the Wonderbolts! How she was supposed to get any of that working as a guard in a hospital, she had no clue. Now she was wishing she had followed Applejack and Bic Macintosh and joined the Ponyville Militia. At least then she could've stayed home and waited for the fight to come to her.

"Are you listening, private?"

Rainbow Dash was so busy wallowing in self-pity that she had accidentally tuned out the sergeant leading her around the hospital. At his question, she shook her head violently to clear her mind and apologized. Her sergeant sighed in exasperation and shook his head before continuing.

"Look, I know this is a pretty boring assignment," the sergeant said, "But it's important. You will be guarding a high-value military prisoner while he completes his recovery. He hasn't caused any trouble yet, but the captain wants him under constant surveillance. You brought your weapon, right private?"

"Yes, sergeant," Rainbow Dash replied, patting the pistol at her side. Her rifle was in her duffel bag, which was slung across her back. The sergeant had told her she wouldn't be carrying her rifle while on duty; the close proximity to the prisoner made it far too difficult to use the full-sized AK-47 effectively. She would only need her Makarov pistol, which she had become quite adept at using. Apart from her pistol, her belt was mostly bare; the only other things attached to it was a small pouch containing her pistol's suppressor and a pouch containing two spare magazines.

"You probably won't need it," the sergeant continued, "But just to inform you, you are authorized to use lethal force if he attempts to escape or attack you or any hospital staff. Again, he hasn't done anything yet, but the captain wants every outcome covered."

"Don't worry, sergeant," Rainbow Dash beamed, a cocky smile crossing her face, "If he even looks at me funny, I'll drop him."

"Good to hear you're confident, private," he said, "But try not to kill him for something stupid. We still need him alive; captain's not through interrogating him."

"Whatever you say, sergeant."

The sergeant took her to the guard barracks, showed her to her assigned cot, and gave her three minutes to unpack her things and don her armor. There were a few other guards at their cots, both mares and stallions. There were so few guards and not a lot of available room, so the sleeping area was shared, operating solely on the honor system and a few night guards that patrolled around the barracks. Some mare guards had a problem with this, but not Rainbow Dash. She knew how to protect herself, and didn't plan on willingly bedding any of her coworkers. None of them looked too attractive to her. She saw it as a blessing; she didn't need any distractions. She reasoned that if she did her job well, she might be able to transfer out soon and go somewhere with a bit of action.

Rainbow Dash dropped her duffel onto her cot and opened it up. She took out her gilded steel armor, which was the standard issue armor for Royal Guards in combat-ready posts. Her ceremonial gold armor was back in Ponyville, safely inside a closet in her cloud house. She was told she wouldn't need it while the war was still being fought. Rainbow Dash laid all of the pieces of her armor on her cot before closing the duffel and sliding it under the cot. She could unpack fully after her first shift.

She quickly slipped into her armor, simply placing it over her tight blue jeans and white tank-top shirt. The armor was form-fitting, but not uncomfortably tight, despite it barely being adjusted since she was issued it. It was situations like this that made her somewhat glad her chest was pretty flat. She could still remember some of the more well-endowed mares in her training unit constantly complaining about how tightly the armor pressed onto their breasts. A few even had to have special chest-plates made for them, specifically molded for their body type. Even then, one or two still needed to adjust the fit themselves afterwards.

Yeah, flat chests were kind of awesome sometimes.

Once her armor was fastened securely around her thin, athletic body, she returned to the sergeant, who was waiting by the exit. He then led her through the hospital, up a couple of flights of stairs, and down a few hallways before finally stopping in front of a room. The door was closed. The sergeant knocked, and a moment later, a brown earth pony in a lab coat opened the door.

"Ah, sergeant, welcome back," the doctor said. He then looked at Rainbow Dash, "You must be the new guard. A pleasure to meet you, my dear."

He extended his jet-black hand, which the mare shook immediately. The three ponies then entered the room.

Time to start the most boring assignment in Equestria, Rainbow Dash thought.

Just as I was being placed back into my hospital bed, there was a sudden knock at the door. Greyhound and the doctor went to the door, and the doctor opened it and peeked outside. I heard muffled conversation for a moment before he returned, followed by two Royal Guard ponies. The one with sergeant markings was a well-built earth stallion, and had a light brown coat with a dark brown mane and tail. The other was a cerulean mare with... a rainbow-striped mane and tail? How the fuck does that work? On her back, I saw a set of long wings. She was a pegasus.

The doctor walked up to the foot of my bed, his usual warm smile on his muzzle, "Sergeant Blackburn, meet your new guard."

"Hi there," I nodded in the mare's direction, trying my best to be civil. It shouldn't be too hard, so long as she didn't have an ego or an attitude.

"Sup?" she waved her hand a bit, barely moving it from its resting place at her hip. The movement brought my gaze downward, and I noticed how thinly built she was. Not really skinny, just very toned. It was actually my preferred body type. The only problem being that now it was on a pony, one who would probably kill me if I so much as complimented her.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, then, doc," the sergeant said. He turned to my day guard, "Come on then, corporal. You're shift is over."

"Goodnight, Greyhound!" I called as the two exited the room. He threw up his hand and gave a half-assed wave in reply before the door closed, leaving just the doctor and my new night guard in the room.

"Well, I'm afraid I must take my leave as well," the doctor said, walking towards the door, "I have a few other patients to check on tonight. You two get to know each other while I'm gone, okay?"

"Can do, doc," I said.

"Oh, and James?" he stopped and looked over his shoulder, "Remember, try and be civil, please?" At that, he exited the room, leaving me alone with the blue pegasus who was still standing near the door.

"What did he mean by that?" she asked me, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't worry about it," I replied.

An awkward silence fell on the small room after that. I was getting a bit tired, and didn't feel like starting the conversation. She just seemed bored. She moved over to the wall near the door and leaned back against it, her arms crossed and her left foot raised to brace against the wall. Following her lead, I laid back down on my bed, putting my hands behind my head. The silence persisted for a bit. Eventually, I got tired of it.

"So..." I began cautiously, "Your name is Rainbow Dash, right?"

"How... how did you know that?" she gave me a curious look.

"The doctor told me," I said, "Who was told by Captain Armor, who was told by... fuck knows." I threw up a hand to emphasize the last part.

"What else did the doctor say about me?" she asked.

"Everything he knew, which wasn't much," I replied, "Just that you're from Ponyville, and that you just recently finished basic training. Which is kind of surprising."

"Surprising? How so?"

I looked over at her. She was still leaning against the wall, "You're way too laid-back for a greenhorn. Most fresh recruits are all about protocol and impressing their commanders. You're... just kinda here for the ride."

"Maybe it's just a human thing," she shrugged.

"Or..." I paused for dramatic effect, "You don't want to be here. You signed up for exciting adventures and glorious combat, and ended up playing security guard for an enemy soldier. So, you don't care. You just want to stand there getting paid until my transfer, and then get moved to somewhere you can actually feel useful."

The shocked look on her face told me I had hit the nail on the head.

"Y-you don't know me!" she snapped, "I can do this job in my sleep! You might not be able to tell from how young and hot I am, but I've saved Equestria twice! This is nothing compared to the foes I've battled!"

Holy fuck, did she have an ego. This was going to be fun.

But, I was getting tired, and didn't have the energy to prod her too much, so I let it go, "Sure, whatever you say, Skittles."

"Who... what? What's a 'Skittles?'"

"Skittles is you, now," I stifled a laugh at her confused face. Hey, I didn't say I wasn't going to fuck with her, "You know how nicknames work, right?"

"Y-yes!" I could tell I was aggravating her. Sorry doc, she made it too easy, "But where did you get 'Skittles' from?"

"Your mane," I said.

"My... mane?" she echoed, moving a hand up to play with her hair a bit.

"Back home, there's this type of candy..." I explained to her exactly where her nickname came from, how I associated her rainbow-colored mane with the candy that was colored like a rainbow.

After a moment of stunned silence, a small grin grew on her muzzle, "Kinda weak nickname, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you, though," I smirked, "But yeah, I'll admit, not one of my best. I might come up with a new one as I get to know you. If I get to know you."

The mare shrugged at that, "Whatever, dude."

The room fell silent yet again. It seemed to be becoming a trend for the day; awkward silence after awkward silence. This time, though, I let it stay. I was getting really tired, and just laid back in my bed. I tried staying awake for a bit, in case Rainbow Dash decided to say anything else, but she never did. Eventually, I managed to drift off to sleep.

A few minutes after he stopped talking, Rainbow Dash noticed that Sergeant Blackburn had fallen asleep. Thank Celestia, I thought he'd never go to sleep, she thought. She left the wall she was leaning against to sit at the table. She could feel herself getting tired as well. Normally, she'd be home at this time, nestled in her bed, sleeping the night away. This graveyard shift would take some getting used to.

She didn't know what to think about the human. He didn't seem hostile, just... annoying. How could anypony deal with an attitude like his? Maybe they just get used to it? Hopefully she wouldn't be guarding him long enough for that to happen. Still, she was curious how he had figured out her motivations - or lack thereof - so quickly and so accurately. And what the hell was with the nicknames? Do all humans do that?

After a moment, she suddenly got bored. With nothing else to do, she somehow decided to get a closer look at the human while he wasn't conscious. She had never seen one up close before, and why waste a good opportunity? Besides, it was better than passing out on the job. She walked over to the side of his bed and looked down at him. In his sleep, he looked a bit.. distressed? That was the only word she could come up with. Barring his facial expression, she noticed the various small scars that dotted his exposed arms and legs. There was also a fairly long scar across his right cheek, barely visible under his scruffy black beard. She wasn't sure why - maybe it was her drowsiness making her mind loopier that usual - but she had a sudden urge to touch the scar. She reached out a hand and lightly slid a finger along the line, brushing his scruff as well. He moaned a bit at the contact, making Rainbow Dash yelp and pull her hand away. But he didn't wake up. She sighed quietly and mentally kicked herself. What was she even doing, anyway? Was she really this desperate for something to do? Maybe she could do some push-ups or something to wake herself up.

She was about to walk away from the bed when Blackburn groaned a bit in his sleep. She stopped, and turned to look at him. He still had that distressed expression. What was he dreaming about?

"Sarah..." he muttered in his sleep.

Dash's ears perked up at this. Who was Sarah? Why was he saying her name in his sleep?

"Sarah..." he repeated, "I'm sorry..."

Sorry? What was he sorry for? What exactly did this guy do?

Dash suddenly felt a pang of guilt shoot through her. She shouldn't be hearing this. It sounded very personal. But she couldn't help but be curious. Who was this "Sarah?" Why did Blackburn feel like he had to apologize to her?

Just... what did this guy do?

I was standing in an open field, the breeze lightly blowing the tall grass that surrounded me. It was a field I recognized, and knew well. It was a field from my past, from my childhood. Sarah and I would play in this field for hours at a time. We played all sorts of games. We would explore the field and the nearby forest. We would spend entire afternoons out here, until the sun began to set and we had to run back home. If we didn't make it back before dark, the "monsters" would get us. That's what we told ourselves, anyway.

Speaking of home, was it... It was! As I turned my head, I noticed the small white farmhouse at the top of a small hill. I began making the long trek towards and then up the hill. Eventually, I reached the house. All of the windows glowed with warm light, like it always did. The house looked altogether inviting. I did it. I was finally home.

I continued walking, up to the front door. I grabbed the doorknob and, finding it unlocked, turned it and pushed the door open. I could see the inside hallway, lit up by the wall-mounted electric lights. I smiled lightly as I began to step inside. If all of this was here, then maybe... "Sarah?" I called out.

As soon as my foot touched the hall rug, the entire house went completely dark. The sudden change of light left me completely blind, and I stumbled forward. I reached out a hand, trying to navigate in the darkness as I took a few steps forward, "Sarah?!" I called again, with no response. I took a few more blind steps before I felt the ground cave in at my feet, and I started to fall. For a few moments, I couldn't see anything. I just kept falling through the darkness, unsure of where I was, or where I was going.

Eventually, I felt myself slam into something. It was then I realized my eyes were closed. I slowly opened one eye to find myself splayed onto the ground, on my stomach. I picked myself up slowly and surveyed my new surroundings. I was in a... forest? Almost like the forest near the farmhouse, but... different. Otherworldly. I also couldn't see that far into the forest. Maybe ten feet past the tiny circular clearing I was standing in.

Crack! I turned at the sound. It had come from the forest behind me. I couldn't see anything, but I... felt something there. A presence. An entity of some kind. My soldier's instincts kicked in, and I reached to my hip. Somehow, I had the luck of having my service pistol with me. I drew it and aimed it towards the sound. I took a cautious step forward, keeping my gun up. Crack! Another sound, again from behind me. I whirled around to face it, and again saw nothing. This time, I didn't even feel it there. it was just... gone.

"H-hello?" I shouted into the dark forest. I noticed my breathing get a bit irregular, and the adrenaline start pumping.

"James?" I heard a voice. It was very ethereal, and seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. But it was a voice I recognized.

"Sarah?!"

"James!" she called. She sounded fearful, like she was in danger.

"Sarah, where are you?!"

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light. When it died down, I found myself in... Manehattan. The bombed out housing project. I looked around. The smoldering wreckage was still there, still burning. I saw Dixon sprawled on the road a few feet away, his skull emptied out from a bullet. I could feel my legs go weak, but I toughed it out long enough to walk to him. Once I reached him, my legs finally gave out, and I dropped to my knees. I couldn't help him. I wanted to. It was too late, though.

"James?" I heard Sarah's voice behind me. I turned my head, but found she wasn't there. She still was nowhere in sight. Was it all in my head? "James!" her voice called again, seemingly from everywhere at once.

"Sarah? Where are you?"

"Why didn't you help them, James?"

"I... I-I tried... I wanted to... But I..."

"Why didn't you save them, James? They trusted you!"

My hands were shaking. I couldn't move. I was stuck there, staring at Dixon's corpse. I couldn't help him. Couldn't save him. All I could do was sit there and watch.

"They trusted you, James! You let them down. You left them! Why did you leave them?"

"I-I didn't have a choice!"

"You left them! You left me! Why did you leave?"

"Sarah, I... I-I'm sorry!"

"Why did you leave, James?" Why?"

"I... I-I didn't..."

"You left us, James! Why did you leave?"

My shaking was uncontrollable now. It covered my entire body. I was frozen in place. At some point, my surroundings had melted away, leaving me stranded in another black void. My only company was Sarah's voice as she continued to torment me. Accusing me of leaving them. Leaving her. I tried to argue, but I couldn't. Because she was right. I left them to burn in the rubble. I left her when I joined the army. I left them. I left them all.

"I'm sorry..."

I jumped up from the bed, my entire body tensing up. It only got worse when I felt my leg twist against something and erupt in pain, "Ow, fuck!" I grunted through gritted teeth. I had to force myself to relax. As my muscles went lax, the pain in my leg dulled to a low throb. Apart from the pain, I noticed my entire body covered in a cold sweat. It completely soaked through my white undershirt, and dripped from my forehead onto the mattress below me. I jumped again when I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I turned to see a pair of cerise-colored eyes staring at me with a worried look. It took me a second to realize it was my night guard, Rainbow Dash.

"You okay, dude?" she asked me, "You kinda freaked out a bit, there."

I just now noticed how hard I was breathing. I took a second to regulate it, and asked Dash to help me sit up. Once I had brought it down to just "irregular," I wiped some of the sweat off of my brow and turned to Dash.

"What time is it?" I asked.

She checked a watch on her wrist, "Like, one in the morning. Now, are you okay?"

"Y-yeah..." I lied, "I-I'm fine."

"You sure, dude?" she asked, unconvinced, "You had a major freak out just then."

"I'm fine," I huffed, "I just... ow... fucked my leg up a bit."

Dash moved out of my sight for a moment, and came back with a medicine bottle that sounded half-full. She opened it and shook out two pills. She held them out to me, "Here. The doctor came by while you were asleep. He said to give you these if you woke up in any pain."

Without question, I took them and forced them down my throat. With how dry my mouth was, it was difficult, but I suffered through it. Dash must have noticed this, because she again moved out of sight and came back with a bottle of water. Again, I took it without question, and downed half of the bottle without stopping. Finally sated, I gave out one last huff of air before my breathing went back to normal. The painkillers kicked in immediately, and I felt the throbbing in my leg die down. I thanked Dash, and she returned to her wall, taking up the same posture she had been in when I fell asleep. Had she really stayed like that all night? I didn't think it would have been possible for her, given her personality.

We just sat there in silence for a few minutes. I slowly finished the water bottle, and let it lay at my side when it was empty. I stayed sitting up, not wanting to lie down and risk falling asleep. I didn't want to go back to... that. I usually forgot my dreams before I even woke up, but I always remembered a nightmare vividly, sometimes for hours afterward. I could still replay every scene in my head.

"You talk in your sleep, you know," I heard Rainbow Dash say, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Really?" this was news to me. What did I say?

"Yeah, you do," she said. After a moment of silence, she added, "Who's Sarah?"

Shit. That's what I said.

"Well?" Dash pressed at my silence, "Who is she?"

"She's..." I fought to get the words out. Despite the painkillers, my head began to throb a bit, "She's... somebody from back home. Someone I care about."

"Wife?" Dash guessed.

"No... sister," I said. Once I said it, my headache went away. I couldn't help but wonder why.

"What happened to her?" Dash asked me.

"Nothing. At least, I hope nothing," I sighed a bit before continuing, "She was just... less than thrilled when I joined the army. She was supportive while I was over there, but..." I trailed off.

Dash suddenly moved away from the wall. She walked over to the table, grabbed one of the chairs, and brought it beside my bed before sitting down. She still leaned back in it, bringing one leg up to rest on the other, "Were you two close?"

"Yeah, as close as two siblings could be," I smiled a bit, but it was short-lived, "Though, we've grown apart as of late. Her husband was... killed. He was a police officer in Boston, he got shot while working a case. Now, she's raising two daughters on her own while I'm off getting shot at for a living."

Dash nodded, listening to every word, "Do you think she blames you?"

"No, no, God no," I said, shaking my head, "But... I still feel guilty. I left her alone with two children. The only support I give her is part of my paycheck."

"You're a soldier, Jay," she said. Did she just give me a nickname? "You have a job to do. I'm sure she understands. I mean, you can't exactly leave, right?"

"Well... I could have," I revealed, which brought a shocked expression across the cyan mare's face, "When the war started, I had a choice. Either stay in the army and come here with my company, or go home. I chose to stay. Barely even thought about it before saying 'yes.'"

This gave the mare pause. I wondered what was going on in her head. She stayed silent for a full minute.

"Do you regret it?" she finally asked.

Now it was my turn to stop and think. Did I regret staying? That was a surprisingly hard question to answer. On the one hand, I felt guilty about leaving Sarah alone only to get myself captured - God, did she even know I was alive at this point? On the other hand, I thought about all of the battles I had fought in since I was deployed here. Dodge City, Baltimare, Manehattan... Our last skirmish notwithstanding, my company fought well, in part because I and the other sergeants were there to lead them through it. The war might not have even made it this far without the Rangers.

Then again, was that something I should be proud of? That my Unit helped prolong this war so much? A war that - at this point - I had no idea why we were fighting in the first place? Then I realized. If I had left, I wouldn't even have these conflicted feelings. I would be like any other wartime civilian, just soaking up what the media wanted to show me about it. I wouldn't have learned how compassionate some of them could be. I wouldn't have met the doctor, or Greyhound, or even the blue pegasus that was by my side now, listening to my sob story and actually seeming to care. Most professional psychologists don't listen as well as she has.

So, with all of that in mind, did I regret staying?

"No," I told her, after what must have seemed like forever.

Surprisingly, she just smiled and patted my shoulder, "Then don't sweat it too much," she said, "There's nothing you can do about it now, anyway. All you can do is get out of here, wait this thing out, and then go back. You can make it up to her then."

He contagious smile brought one to my own lips, "Thanks, Dash," I said.

"Oh, so it's 'Dash,' now?" she asked teasingly, "What happened to 'Skittles?'"

"Like I said, not my best work," I laughed a bit, "I'll just have to come up with a new one."

She scoffed a bit, and got up from her chair, "Whatever, dude."

As she put the chair back and returned to her wall, I started to feel tired again. This time, though, I wasn't afraid to fall asleep. I guess my mother was right; talking through your issues helped. No longer worried about my nightmare making a repeat appearance, I laid back and drifted off to sleep.

Author's Note

What? Two chapters within 24 hours of each other?! WHO AM I, AND WHAT HAVE I DONE WITH JACK?! :pinkiegasp:

But seriously, though, don't expect this too much. I was just really inspired after I finished Chapter 4, and couldn't shut my mind off. I gotta say, i think this is the best chapter I've written so far. It's also the longest, though, so there's that. I'm going to try making future chapters about this long as well. The only reason I didn't make the last few this long was because I couldn't find a way of extending it without being annoyingly descriptive or shoehorning in pointless dialogue. The story already has enough McGuffins in it, I don't need any more.

The good news is, I think I finally have a solid direction of where this is going and how to get it there. Chapter 6 should be up soon. Not sure when, but it'll be soon.

Until then, as always, constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 6: Progress

"Alright, James, are you ready?"

"Yeah, let's do it."

Almost a week had passed since the nightmare, and the subsequent late-night talk with the new guard, Rainbow Dash. For some odd reason, I couldn't remember exactly how the conversation had gone, just like with my interview with Captain Shining Armor when I first got captured. It actually pissed me off a bit, since I normally had an excellent memory. So why the hell couldn't I remember two really important conversations, apart from the fact that they took place? I had actually brought it up with the doctor, who figured it might be a side-effect of the pain medication. He had promised to let the rest of the staff know, so it could be looked into.

Speaking of the doctor, he was currently helping me off of the bed, being assisted by Greyhound. Rainbow Dash was across the room, leaning against the door in her usual lax posture. She was technically off-duty, but had decided to stay for a bit, "Just in case." The reason I was being let off of the bed was to test my legs again. The last few times had started off promising, with me able to stand sort-of-upright, but the moment I had tried to take a step, my bad leg would give out. This time, though, the doctor had a good feeling. Today was the day I would walk again.

Or so he promised. Me? I wasn't getting my hopes up.

"Alright, on three," the doctor said. Both he and Greyhound braced themselves against me on either side, ready to lift me off of my sitting position on the side of the bed, "One... two... three!"

They both began lifting me up, and I extended my legs to meet the ground standing up. Soon, I felt my feet lightly impact the tile floor, and I did my best to work my weakened leg muscles. The two equines at my sides kept themselves braced against me as I eased myself up straight, before they slowly backed away. My bad leg twitched for a moment, but didn't give. The first hurdle was completed. Now for the hard part: walking.

The stallions stayed close, in case my leg decided not to work again this time. If they saw me buckle, they would grab me and put me back on the bed, just like every other attempt before this one. While I took a second to let my legs get readjusted to my weight, I noticed Dash raise an eyebrow, and intrigued expression on her face. Even she was curious to know if it would go well this time. Not wanting to make them wait in anticipation too long, I slowly, carefully, tentatively took a single step forward with my good leg. It wobbled a bit, but held. So far so good. Now, for the bad leg...

I took a beep breath, held it for a second, and let it out slowly. The room was deathly silent as the three ponies watched me lift my bad leg and hesitantly moved it forward. The action that only took a couple of seconds felt like an eternity. Another eternity went by as I lowered my foot down towards the floor, and felt it connect. My weight shifted onto the appendage, making it wobble and bend. The stallions readied themselves to catch me as they saw my leg wobble... wobble...

And hold.

All three of us sighed in both relief and disbelief. Dash remained silent, but both of her eyebrows were raised in surprise. With renewed vigor, I took a few more steps forward, in Dash's direction. This time, I moved a bit faster, akin to a slow walking speed. I noticed a limp coming from my bad leg, but it kept going. With each step, my legs protested the weight bearing down on them less and less. Within moments, I was doing circles around the room at a normal walking pace. Finally, after about four wide loops, I stopped and looked at the three Equestrians in the room. The doctor was smiling widely. Greyhound had a smaller smile on his face, but he was nodding. Dash had her eyes closed now, but she was nodding her head a bit, and I could've sworn she had a very faint smirk on her face.

"Congratulations, James," the doctor spoke up first, "It seems you have fully recovered."

"Well, mostly," I replied, pointing out the limp.

"Oh, that's not too bad," the doctor waved his hand dismissively. He seemed to do that a lot, come to think of it, "That limp should be gone in a couple of days, especially if you stay on your feet as much as you can."

"I don't think Dash would like that, doc," I said, shooting her a smirk.

"Nope," she replied flatly, her eyes still closed.

"Come now, you two," the doctor warned, narrowing his eyes at us, "Be civil. Anyway, like I said, that limp should be gone in a few days. Probably around the time Captain Armor returns from Canterlot."

"And after that, it's off to jail for you!" Dash added, a sly smirk of her own on her muzzle.

"Can't wait," I replied as I made another loop around the center of the room, "I'll finally get out of this fucking room!"

"Aw, come on, it's not that bad in here," she said.

"You try staying in here for three weeks straight!"

"Both of you, enough!" the doctor snapped, stopping both of us immediately. I had never heard him shout before.

At that, Dash moved away from the wall, "I guess it's time for me to scram anyway. I need some sleep before my shift tonight."

We all bid her farewell, and she left. I kept pacing around the room, reveling in the feeling of being able to walk again. I never thought I'd feel so accomplished just by being able to take a step. Nevertheless, it felt amazing; on par with my graduation from Ranger school. All of the time invested, all of the suffering and effort, all of it accumulating to that one moment where I felt like I've finally done something with my life. Like I've finally realized my true purpose. I'm finally able to live. How I got this feeling just from walking was amazingly confusing, but I wasn't about to complain. I just rode the high as I kept moving.

I don't know what it was - probably the high from finally feeling useful again - but I felt bold. Bold enough to ask something I had been wanting to mention to the doctor since my leg had healed, but never had the courage to. Until now.

"Hey, doc?" I began cautiously.

"Yes, James?" he looked at me curiously. I just then noticed that Greyhound had returned to his favorite spot by the door, staring straight ahead. Ever the professional.

"This is going to sound... bad, potentially," I continued, choosing my words carefully, "But I've been meaning to request something..."

"What is it, James?"

"Well, I was hoping that... I could... maybe... take a stroll outside," I said before quickly adding, "Not... right now, exactly. Some time tonight, actually. If... if that's possible."

"Hmm," the doctor raised a black hand to his chin and stroked it absently, "Well, I certainly don't have a problem with it, but I'm not allowed to make that decision on my own. I'll have to clear it with the sergeant."

"Does that mean you'll try?" I asked hopefully.

The doctor nodded, "Yes. I'll bring it up with him the next time I see him. Since it's at night, he might approve, actually. Nopony will be roaming around that late, and as long as you have a guard with you, it shouldn't be much of an issue."

I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled, "Thanks, doc."

Rainbow Dash walked down the halls of the hospital towards the barracks, trying to hide the smile on her face. She didn't want to admit it, but she was a bit proud of the human. To be forced to do nothing but sit in bed for three weeks straight, not only unwilling but unable to walk, must have been torture for him. Dash herself would sooner charge a human tank with nothing but a bayonet than have to suffer through something like that. Being immobile for three weeks? No thank you.

She had to admit, she was kind of glad she had stuck around to watch him finally start walking again. Seeing that smile on his face was more than worth the loss of sleep. She didn't understand why, but ever since that first night - where he opened up to her and told her things even the doctor didn't know - she had become a bit protective of him. She knew not to let it get in the way of her duties, but she felt that she better understood her duties because of it. She had heard the whispers of the hospital staff, seen the anger in the other guards' eyes when the human was mentioned. Most of the ponies here either feared him or hated him. That information led to her realizing that she wasn't just there to keep him from harming anypony; she was there to make sure nopony harmed him.

And Rainbow Dash always took her job seriously.

Author's Note

Really short chapter, I know, but I promise the next one will be longer. It's also where the action finally picks up again, so look forward to that. :rainbowdetermined2:

Sorry this one took a bit to come out. I just wasn't sure which direction to take it. I had a whole different idea for it in mind, but my attempts to write it ended up falling flat, so I just scrapped it and came up with this. Again, I know it was short, but I needed to wrap this hospital stuff up soon to get on with the rest of the story.

Hope you enjoyed. As always, constructive criticism is appreciated and welcome.

Chapter 7: A New Enemy

Rainbow Dash kept her arms crossed, tightly hugging her gilded chest-plate as a gust of wind blew past her. Of course the human would have picked tonight to ask for a walk outside; the night that she had decided to wear a light sleeveless shirt under her armor. Gust after gust of wind came at her in the colder-than-normal summer night as she escorted Blackburn through the hospital courtyard. She found herself wondering why he would want to take a night walk, and why the hell her sergeant had actually agreed to it. When she was ordered to watch over Blackburn as he took his little late-night stroll, of course she protested, to no avail. The doctor had convinced the sergeant somehow, so that was that. She had her orders, and would follow through, no matter how much she disagreed.

Dash gritted her teeth as another gust of wind assaulted her body, her thin pegasus fur doing little to stop the chilly air. She found herself wrapping her wings around her body as an added layer of protection as the two continued walking. It helped a little. She looked over at Blackburn, a bit jealous. The doctor had returned his military jacket. It had been cleaned and repaired, and looked good as new. As if it had never been through an explosion in the first place. He was also wearing the matching pants, completely replacing the patient's scrubs he had been in for the duration of his stay. He actually looked like the soldier he was; a sight which gave Dash pause when she first saw it. He looked so... professional, and carried himself that way as soon as he put the uniform on. Even now, he was walking like a well-disciplined warrior, his limp barely noticeable.

Suddenly, he glanced back at her. It was then that she realized she had been staring at him. She quickly darted her gaze away, shifting it to the ground as her face heated up just a bit. She hoped her blush wasn't noticeable in the dim moonlight. That prayer was quickly forgotten as yet another strong gust of wind picked up, chilling her to the bone. She gritted her teeth again, noticeably shivering. Why the hell was it so cold tonight? It was summer!

"You alright there, rookie?" she heard him ask. When she looked back up, he was looking at her with seemingly-genuine concern. Though, she could do without the new nickname.

"Who're you calling a rookie?" she shot back, her low-temperature environment momentarily forgotten, "Do you know who you're talking to?"

"Take it easy," he said, holding his arms up defensively, "I just wanted to know if you're okay. You don't look too hot."

"That's because I'm the exact opposite right now," she said as more wind blew past her. She shut her eyes to shield them from the biting cold.

"You picked a bad night to go topless, huh?" Blackburn replied, his sense of humor finally showing itself.

"I'm not topless, it just doesn't have sleeves!" she shouted. Her words were loud enough to echo a bit, causing her to clasp a hand over her mouth as her eyes shot open wide. Goddess, she hoped none of the other night guards had heard that. She would never hear the end of it. She closed her eyes again, this time from embarrassment, and her hand moved from her mouth to her low-hanging forehead.

She heard Blackburn stop, prompting her to do the same, but she kept her eyes closed. She then heard some shuffling noises - like Velcro being ripped - and a zipper, before she heard Blackburn say, "Here."

She opened her eyes and looked up to see what he had meant, and they immediately went wide again. He was standing in front of her, holding out a piece of clothing colored like his uniform. She wasn't focusing on that, though. Her gaze was focused on Blackburn, who was completely bare from the waist up. His heavily-scarred, very toned chest glistened a bit under the light of Luna's moon. The wind picked up yet again at that moment, causing Dash to recoil and shiver yet again, but Blackburn didn't even flinch.

"Hey, rookie, I know I must look amazing right now, but you're going to get sick out here. Take it."

Rainbow Dash shook her head violently, casting away her trance. She forced herself to break her gaze and look down at the item in his hand, which she could now see was his military jacket.

"A-are... Are you serious?" she stuttered, trying hard not to look back up at his chest. Her face burned from embarrassment.

"Completely," he responded flatly. He extended his arm, getting the jacket closer to Dash. She reached out a hand to take it, but stopped herself.

"A-are you crazy? I can't wear that!" she exclaimed.

"Do you want to catch a cold?" he asked.

"No... b-but..."

"Then just take the damn jacket. It's not going to bite."

"But.. what about you?" she asked after a second of silence.

He smirked at her and replied, "Please, this is nothing compared to a night in Iraq. I'll be fine," he took a step towards her and held out the piece of clothing, "Here. Put it on. It'll help."

She hesitated a moment before another gust of wind made her decide. Oh, for Celesita's sake... She reached out and took the jacket. Blackburn loosened his grip on it as her's tightened, and a moment later it was securely wrapped around her. It was big enough to accommodate her wings, though she had to press them against her back. Not uncomfortable, but noticeable enough that she couldn't get used to the feeling. She wasn't able to zip the jacket up, but it didn't affect her too much. It was still very warm, still radiating with the human's body heat. She noticed a slight smell to it; the most identifiable was the smell of cheap hospital soap, but there was something else there she couldn't place. It didn't smell bad, just... unique. Intriguing.

"Is that better?" she heard Blackburn ask, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Y-yes," she replied, "Th-thanks."

After that, they continued their walk around the courtyard. Dash's face felt warm the entire time, and she couldn't hide the small smile that appeared on her face.

The moonlight shined off of the guard's gilded armor as he walked along the rooftop of the hospital. His gaze was fixed outward, centered on the human prisoner as it enjoyed a walk outside, its first in weeks. The guard watched intently as it moved and occasionally glanced behind itself at the mare guard following it. The guard kept his rifle pointed in that direction, ready to drop the human should it try to run or attack it's escort. The guard was so intent on watching the prisoner, he didn't notice the movement above him. He didn't hear the soft thud of lion paws on the concrete behind him. He didn't sense the tall, dark figure approach him. He didn't see the glint of the knife in the figure's hand. At least, not in time. Not until he felt himself get grabbed and pulled back. He didn't even have time to call out before the knife was plunged into his neck. The only noise he managed to make was a low gurgle as he drowned in his own blood.

The griffon slowly lowered his downed prey to the concrete. Once the guard had stopped making sounds, the griffon pulled out a small, handheld device the humans had called a "radio" and pressed down on one of the buttons.

"We're in," he spoke into the device.

"Copy that. We're in position as well," came the recipient's reply, "Proceed as planned."

"Understood," the griffon said with a devious smile.

"Ready to head back?" I asked the cyan mare behind me, turning my head to look at her. She glanced up at me from the ground. She was still wearing my MultiCam ACU top, keeping it wrapped around her as tightly as she could. The wind had died down, but it was still fairly cold outside, so much so that it even started to bother me.

"Yeah," she replied to my question.

She led the way this time as we began the trip back to my hospital room. We walked almost side-by-side, with Dash having a slight lead on me. She kept her back to me, not looking back at all. In fact, as soon as we entered the building itself, she seemed to actively hide her face behind her short, rainbow-striped hair. We walked down the quiet halls of the hospital, neither of us saying a word for what seemed like forever. The skeleton crew of the hospital staff went about their business, apart from one or two nurse mares who gave us quizzical looks as we walked by. I saw Dash shrink even more into her hair and my jacket at each glance.

We must have been quite a sight. A known human prisoner, half-naked and being led by a uniformed guard mare who was also wearing said human's clothes. Hell, I'm surprised we didn't turn more heads than just the few we did. But most of the staff just went about their business, more occupied with patients who needed actual help. The few guards posted in the halls at night kept their gazes forward, looking professional. Whether they kept their gazes forward after we passed, I had no idea, but I wasn't going to turn around and find out.

Dash remained silent until we reached an elevator. She walked up to one and tapped on the button. Once she did, the number above it lit up, and started slowly counting down from twelve, which was the top floor of the hospital. It was kind of strange seeing the elevator being up that high, and a little off-putting. I had heard the doctor say once that, due to the Royal Guard being stretched so thin since the start of the Manehattan Campaign, only the first four floors of the hospital were in use. The hospital didn't have the manpower - or, ponypower, in this case - to keep the entire building patrolled effectively. The only reason I could think of for the elevator to be that high was the rooftop snipers changing shifts, which had happened hours ago.

Dash finally speaking up broke me out of my train of thought, "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead," I said, keeping my eyes on the slowly-descending counter above the elevator.

"Why did you want to take a walk? And at night?" she asked. She was still hiding behind her hair, but she was directly next to me now, so I could see her face out of my peripheral vision. She looked like she was... blushing a bit? Weird.

"I just wanted out of that goddamn room for a bit," I replied, "And I always preferred night to day. Besides, I didn't want to freak out any of the other patients. The doc said more than a few have come to the hospital shell-shocked. The sight of an enemy soldier walking around might trigger them."

"How... considerate of you," she said with a bit of disbelief in her tone, "Though, now I'm curious. Why would you care whether you freak somepony out? Aren't we your enemy?"

I took my gaze away from the counter and looked at her, "Have you ever... seen someone having a PTSD attack?" She shook her head. I sighed, and said, "Well, I have. Trust me, it's... not something you want to experience firsthand. Me being around them would only make their condition worse. I wouldn't wish that on anybody, no matter what they've done."

After a pause, during which the counter hit the number four and stopped, Dash asked, "Have you ever had an... 'attack?'"

I nodded, "They come and go. Never while on a mission, though. Hell, that nightmare I had your first night here? That was one."

"Shit..." she mumbled, barely audible.

The elevator resumed its descent, finally reached our floor, and opened up. There wasn't anyone else on it. We stepped inside, and Dash hit the button labeled with a three. The metal doors slid closed, and the elevator slowly lurched upward. There was another awkward silence. It stayed until, right before we reached the third floor, the elevator stopped. A second later, the light illuminating the small metal box went out, replaced by a dim red emergency light.

"What the hell?" I said. Dash reached over to the control panel and pressed a few buttons, but nothing responded.

"Great! Completely dead," she sighed and stepped away from the panel, crossing her arms.

I sighed as well, and tried to think of a way out. I mean, I had no problem waiting for someone to fix it, but I didn't feel like just standing there for God knows how long before they did. My eyes quickly fell on the emergency hatch on the elevator's top. Well, if this couldn't be considered an emergency, what would be?

"Hey, Dash, could you give my jacket back?" I turned to the rainbow-maned mare and reached out my hand. To my surprise and utter confusion, she recoiled and tightened her arms.

"Wh-why?" she asked.

I sighed and pointed up to the hatch, "We're going up there to see if we can get out. I'd rather not be half-naked while doing so."

She held back a moment before nodding, "Okay. Here," she slipped off the garment and handed it back to me. I donned it effortlessly and zipped it up, then turned back to Dash and gestured towards the hatch.

"Come on, boost me up," I said.

"Why you?" she asked, "I have wings, I can just fly up."

Okay, she had a point there, "Alright. Just pull me up afterwards."

So, she hopped up once to open the emergency hatch, and then dashed up into the elevator shaft. A second later, a cerulean-colored hand reached back down into the elevator. I jumped up and grabbed it, and between the two of us, we were able to pull me up easily. Once I was standing in the shaft, I took a look up. The third-floor doors were just a meter above my head, and were sealed shut. A bit further up, I saw the doors to the fifth floor were actually ajar. Strange. Why were they open?

Dash seemed to notice as well, "Why the hell is it...?"

"Who knows," I cut her off, "But hey, It's a lucky break. We just gotta get up there, and we're out."

"Okay, but how do we both get up there from here? You can't fly."

"You're just going to have to haul me up," I said.

Her eyes went wide, "W-wait... you mean... C-carry you?" She stuttered. I could see a clear shade of red appear on her otherwise-blue face.

"Yes, Dash." I nodded, giving her a deadpan look. When she didn't respond, I added, "Do you want to be stuck here until they get the power back on?" She shook her head, "In that case, we gotta get up there. The only way for that to happen is for you to fly us both up. Unless, you can't lift me..."

"Of course I can lift you!" she snapped.

"Well, then let's see it," I said, smiling deviously. I knew that would get her.

"O-okay..." she sighed, "T-turn around."

Though confused, I did as she asked. After a moment of hesitation, I felt her arms wrap around me, her hands linking at the base of my chest. I heard a fluttering sound as she extended her wings, "You ready?" she asked. I nodded, felt her grip around me tighten, and she took off.

Seconds later, we were up at the open door. She flew into the hallway before touching down and letting go. Looking around, I could see that this floor was down to emergency power as well. So it wasn't just the elevators. This being the fifth floor, there were no guards or hospital staff in sight. We were out of the shaft, though, and the stairs were nearby. Dash took the lead, and we slowly navigated our way through the dimly-lit hallways.

"You know, I gotta say I'm impressed," I told her halfway to the stairwell, "You're a lot stronger than you look."

"Really?" she asked in a bit of an excited tone. Immediately after she said it, she seemed to take it back and return to her usual cocky attitude, "I mean, uh... you're really impressed by that? Please, I could lift you in my sleep, no problem!"

I just stifled a laugh in reply. We reached the door to the stairwell, and went inside. We walked down two flights of stairs and reached a door labeled with a four. Our destination was the next floor down, so Dash began descending the next flight. I was about to follow her, when I heard something beyond the door. Something... familiar. It sent a chill down my spine.

"Dash, hold up," I said, grabbing her by the shoulder.

"What? What are you..." she stopped. She heard it too.

Pop... pop... pop...

"What the hell is that?" Dash asked, approaching the door.

Pop-pop...

"Gunshots," I replied. I walked up to the door and wrapped my hand around the handle. I held up my other hand to signal Dash to stay back, and eased the door open just a crack. I peeked out, and what I saw was nothing short of horrifying. There were bodies everywhere, of both hospital workers and guards. I saw small glints of light here and there on the ground; light reflecting off of shell casings. From the way the bodies were sprawled onto the ground, most didn't even have time to react to their attackers. Most had been killed while they were doing their work. A few guards had their weapons drawn, but they either hadn't fired them or didn't hit anything. There were no stray bodies.

I saw something stir within a pool of blood a few feet away. A stallion doctor with light grey fur was trying to pick himself up. There was a large red spot on his white coat, on the back. He had taken a hit, but was alive. I was about to step out to help him, when his gaze shot upwards, fear evident in his eyes. At first, I thought he saw me, but no. He was looking out into the hallway. I heard faint footsteps on the other side of the door.

I saw the stallion raise an arm towards the unknown beings in the hallway, and he began pleading with them, "Please... no..."

His words were cut short by a bullet tearing through his left eye and blowing out the back of his skull. As he slumped back down, I closed the door as quietly as I could and grabbed Dash's arm.

"What the hell are you...?" she exclaimed.

"Shut up and come with me," I said quietly but sternly. I took her back up the stairs behind us and hid us both in the corner, out of sight of the door.

"James, what the hell are you doing?" she asked, much quieter than she had been before. I didn't respond, other than holding a finger up to my lips and shushing her.

Seconds later, the fourth-floor door burst open. I heard more footsteps as what I thought were four figures entered the stairwell. I didn't peek out, so I didn't see who they were. But I heard them. Not only were their footsteps audible, but they were talking quietly, in a language I didn't understand. It sounded vaguely European, but not one I recognized.

I held Dash close, partially out of fear she would try something stupid, but to my surprise, she just sank further into it. Her breathing was short and irregular. It then occurred to me; she was still green. This was likely her first combat situation, and instead of going through it with a squad of soldiers she knew and trusted, she had to do it with an enemy prisoner.

Practically alone, with no rifle. No intel. No backup.

Lucky for her, that's the way I prefer it.

The figures in the stairwell luckily headed down, to the third floor. Once I heard the door open and then shut again, I stood up, taking the scared mare with me. Her hands were shaking, and she had a look of shock on her face.

"Dash?" I called to her, "Dash, you with me?" she mumbled something I couldn't hear, "What?" I asked.

"Griffons," she replied. She looked at me, the shock never leaving her expression, "They were griffons."

"What? How do you know?" I asked the cyan pony.

"When they were talking, I... recognized a few words. I used to be close friends with a griffon. She taught me a bit of their language."

I nodded, "Well, at least we know. It raises more than a few questions, but let's focus on one thing at a time," I thought for a moment, trying to think of a next move. There were griffons roaming a hospital, gunning down the staff. We needed help, and fast, "Let's go find your sergeant. Or, any guards that are still alive."

She nodded back, and we began walking down the stairs. When I looked at her, I noticed her weapon was still holstered at her side. She hadn't drawn it, which is usually the first thing to do in a combat situation. Guess I would have to take the reins for this one.

"Dash," I tapped her shoulder, making her jump, "This is going to sound bad, but I need your weapon."

"What?!" she exclaimed in a loud whisper, "Do you seriously think I'll fall for that?"

I sighed. I should have seen that coming, and I didn't blame her, but we needed to do something, "Look, we're facing God knows how many of these guys. They've already slaughtered an entire floor, and they're working on another right now. Unless you're comfortable with killing them, give me the goddamn pistol and let a professional handle this."

Dash stayed silent for a moment. In the silence, we heard more gunfire below us, louder than before. The Royal Guard had figured out what was happening, and they were fighting back. This seemed to make up Dash's mind, and I saw her draw her weapon - a Russian Makarov PM. She turned it around in her hand, gripping the barrel, and held it out to me. I took it carefully before gesturing to a pouch on her belt, "Hand me that suppressor, too," I said. She did, and I snapped it onto the pistol. I then started back down the stairs, with Dash trailing very close behind.

The third-floor door opened up into another massacre. More bodies lined the floor, but it was mostly hospital staff. Only one or two guards were dead, and there was even a griffon on the ground at the far end of the hall. I stepped out cautiously, checking both directions with my weapon pointed forward. Both ways were clear. There was heavy gunfire to the right, but it wasn't in this hallway. It sounded like the equines were putting up a hell of a fight. I made a mental note to be extra careful if we went that way. I didn't want to catch a stray bullet.

"Which way now, Dash?" I asked her. She knew the layout of the hospital; she would know where her sergeant would most likely be.

She didn't respond for the longest time. She was busy staring at the bodies in the hall. I had forgotten how green she was for a moment. I tapped hard on her shoulder, bringing her out of her trance, and repeated my question.

"We... we can head this way and loop around," she said, pointing left, "We might be able to link up with some of the guards. If there are any left when we get there, that is..."

"There will be," I squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, "You guys are some tough bastards."

I led the way this time, keeping my gun forward. Dash and I carefully navigated around the bodies and blood pools until we rounded the corner to the next hall. It was lined with even more dead ponies, making me wonder just how many griffons we were up against. I took three steps before noticing movement up ahead. In a very large pool of blood was a slow-crawling, baby-blue mare in a nurse's outfit. I recognized her immediately as the nurse who always brought my meals when I was bedridden.

The two of us quickly made our way over to her, with Dash calling her by name. I knelt down and turned her onto her back, looking for a wound of some sort. I found it easily; there was a clear hole in her abdomen, slowly trickling blood. She was breathing irregularly, huffing out every exhale. I unbuttoned the lower half of her top to get a better look at the wound, and my heart dropped. The bullet had definitely pierced at least one major organ. Without serious medical attention, she would die very soon. And I doubted there was anybody readily available. I still didn't want to just do nothing, so I set my gun off to the side and pressed down onto the wound.

"You're going to be fine, Blue," I lied, trying to keep her calm, "You'll be fine, just hang on."

Surprisingly, she just huffed a laugh, "Don't bullshit me, sergeant. I'm not gonna make it."

I should've known not to lie to a medical professional. So I just nodded, and kept applying pressure. I wasn't sure what else to do, and I couldn't just do nothing. Though, when I pressed down, the nurse just grabbed my wrists and pushed them away.

"Don't waste your time, sergeant," she said. She sounded tired, "I'm not going to make it. Just leave me here. You have to..." Dash wrapped her arms around the mare as she lurched up suddenly, making a pained sound. As she was eased back down, she continued, "You have to find the doctor. Leave this place. They... they can't be stopped here. Find the doctor... and leave..."

As she went on, her eyes slipped closed. As soon as she uttered the last word, she went limp in Dash's arms. Out of instinct, I reached a hand up to her neck and felt around for a pulse. I cursed to myself when I didn't find one. She was gone. I wiped my bloodied hands on my pant legs and stood back up, grabbing my weapon as I did. I then turned to Dash, "Come on. We gotta keep moving."

Dash didn't move though. She was staring at the dead mare in her arms, fighting back tears. When I said her name again, she looked up at me with a pained expression, "Why?" she asked, "Why did they do this?"

I knelt back down and placed my free hand on her back. I tried to keep my voice low and calm as I said, "This is going to sound harsh, but we can't dwell on that right now. We have to focus on getting out of here alive. We can mourn them later. Right now... we need to find the doctor and your sergeant and get the hell out of this deathtrap."

Her tears flowed freely now, but she nodded and began to set the nurse down.

"Come on. Let's get out of here," I took hold of her wrist and led her down the hallway. She didn't resist.

We walked in silence down the hall. I tried not to look at the number of bodies on the ground. Some of the hospital rooms were open, and a peek inside revealed patients still in their beds, riddled with holes. Not even the sick were spared. Were griffons really so callous? Could the doctor really have survived all of this so far? And Dash raised a good point, why were the griffons suddenly attacking a hospital, of all places?

At this point, there was really only one thing I knew for sure. This was going to be a long fucking night.

Author's Note

Well, that escalated quickly...

So, finally getting back to the action. Thank God for that. The hospital stuff was really starting to get boring to write. And I know that when that happens, it's probably boring to read. Thanks for sticking it out for this long. The story really takes off from here, so look forward to it!

Also, how do you guys like Tsundere Dash so far? I've been kinda iffy on how I've been writing her, and I know I've been a bit inconsistent. Hopefully I'll find a good balance to her personality once the two get to really know each other, but from what you've seen so far, what do you think? Am I writing her well enough?

As always, thanks for reading. Constructive criticism is welcome.

Chapter 8: Evening the Odds

The gunfire picked up as we silently made our way through the hospital. We passed by more and more bodies as we went. Guards, doctors, nurses, patients... nobody was spared. I kept Dash's handgun pointed forward as I led the two of us down the next hallway. I was waiting and hoping for a griffon to round the corner, just so I could drop him. Attacking a hospital wasn't something I could take sitting down. I couldn't hold back the desire to show them why it was a bad idea.

And I had every intention of doing so.

Eventually, we reached an intersection in the hallways. I turned to Dash, who nodded her head to the right. We went in that direction, and as we went, the gunfire got louder and louder. I also started hearing muffled voices; commands being shouted to and from the Royal Guard soldiers, muffled by the distance and the gunshots. After walking a bit, I could see figures in the darkness further down the hall. Every few seconds, one or two would light up as their rifles discharged, the muzzle flash illuminating their faces. They were firing in short bursts, three to four rounds going out before they ducked back behind whatever cover they were behind.

I went low, trying to make myself unseen as we neared them. I didn't want to get shot by a pony mistaking me for a griffon. I let Dash take the lead, and we soon reached the equine soldiers. She called out to them; loud enough to hear, but not too loud as to startle them. A light brown stallion with a dark brown mane turned to us, called us out to the rest of the guards, and gestured us over. I followed Dash, this time keeping my gun low. When we reached the stallion, I recognized him. It was her sergeant.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked us as we approached.

"We got stuck in an elevator when the power died," I said, crouching down beside him, "And I'm guessing it wasn't a coincidence."

"You guess right. The bastards cut it," he huffed. Then he looked at Dash and noticed something, "Where's your weapon, private?"

"Uh..." Dash fought to get the words out. I sighed, and helped her out by holding the pistol up.

"What the hell?" the sergeant glared at both of us, "Put that down, now!"

"Look, sergeant, I'd love to argue with you about this," I began, lowering the weapon to my side, "But right now, this entire building is under attack. We need to get it secured, fast, before more people are killed. Don't you want an extra gun in this fight? An experienced gun?"

The sergeant was about to retort, but stopped and thought. After a moment, he sighed angrily and shook his head in defeat, "Just make sure you put it down the moment this building is clear. Take any longer, and I'll shoot you myself."

"Understood," I said, nodding. I was about to ask for intel on the enemy when a barrage of gunfire started tearing away at the intersection around us. I saw two stallions go down, one of them screaming in pain. Everyone else shrank into their cover.

"Damn it!" the sergeant shouted, "There isn't going to be a fight at all if we don't take these guys down!"

I thought for a moment, going over a mental map of the floor - at least, the parts I knew - and remembered the first hallway we had been in. There was a way around through there. If we doubled back and flanked them, it could take them by surprise. With us picking at them from both sides, they'd go down pretty quickly.

"Wait here!" I said, getting up and taking off back the way I came. I heard the sergeant say something, but I couldn't understand it over the gunfight behind him. I worked my way back to the first hallway, moving much faster than before. I reached the stairwell in moments. I moved past it, into uncharted territory. The carnage continued in this direction as well. Dead hospital staff and armored guards were everywhere; but among them were something new - dead griffons. I'm not going to lie, I was happy to see that some of the bastards got their comeuppance for this attack.

Time to add a few more to that list.

I made it to the corner and peeked around. Sure enough, I could see faint muzzle flashes in the darkness up ahead. To make sure I wasn't being flanked myself, I turned my gaze back behind me...

To see two ponies in gilded armor standing right next to me. One I recognized as Rainbow Dash. The other was a dark red unicorn stallion with an AK-47 in his hands.

"What the hell are you two doing?" I asked, not even bothering to control my volume. I was way too confused for that.

"Our sergeant ordered us to follow you," Dash said, shrugging.

"Fair enough," I said before pointing at the unicorn, "You. Who are you?"

"Private Crimson Flare, sir," he said in a young-sounding voice, nodding curtly. At least he knew how to act like a soldier. Though, he still looked pretty green; his rifle was shaking a bit, and his eye had a nervous twitch.

"Alright," my gaze fell to the sidearm at his belt, "Give Dash your backup, and stick close. We're moving up."

Crimson Flare handed Dash his pistol - a Tokarev-style pistol, not unlike Captain Shining Armor's piece - and they both nodded. We snaked around the corner and moved forward, keeping low. We closed the distance between us and the attackers. I counted six in the darkness, all armed with small, suppressed automatic weapons. I hid behind a stray gurney that was up against the left-side wall. Flare went right beside me, and Dash took up a position across from us, inside a doorway.

"You two ready for this?" I asked quietly, more to Dash than Flare. After how she had been acting since the attack started, I was worried she would freeze up. Surprisingly, they both nodded. Dash even had a fire in her eyes. A fire I knew well. She was done moping about. She was ready for some good old-fashioned vengeance.

"Just tell us what to do, sir," Flare whispered.

I weighed our options for a moment as the gunfight raged in front of us. The griffons didn't know we were there. They could be dropped easily enough. But two of us only had pistols. I had to procure a better weapon. My gaze fell on one of the griffons. He was a bit further away from the group than the others, standing behind a large, square plant pot set against the left wall. If I could get close, I could drop him and get his gun easily.

I turned to my two allies, "Hold here a moment. When you hear 'weapons free,' start picking targets. Shoot at anything griffon-shaped. Don't stop until they're all down."

"You got it, boss," Flare saluted loosely with his right hand. Dash just nodded.

Keeping myself low, I moved out from behind the gurney and approached my selected target. He was too busy firing a long burst of bullets at the ponies down the hall to notice my approach. I got right up behind him, still undetected. I slowly stood up, and found out he was barely taller than me; maybe four inches taller. Good. That would make taking him out much easier. I carefully flicked my Makarov's safety off, then aimed it at the griffon's back. In one swift motion, I grabbed the griffon around his head, covering his beak with my elbow so he couldn't call out, and put three bullets into his spine. His death cries were muffled into my sleeve, unheard by anyone but me. Once I felt him go limp in my arms, I eased his lifeless corpse onto the ground. One down, five to go.

Not forgetting the purpose of this stealth-kill, I tucked my pistol into my fatigue pants and relieved him of his own weapon. It was an H&K MP7, a very modern, German-made Personal Defense Weapon. This particular one was fitted with a suppressor, a red dot sight, a flashlight attachment, and a drum magazine. Very expensive accessories. How the hell did a griffon on Equus get a hold of one?

Shaking the question away for now, I grabbed a couple of spare box magazines from a set of pouches on the griffon's tactical vest, which I just now noticed they had. They were all outfitted like mercenaries. Who the hell paid for all of this equipment? Again forcing myself to focus, I looked back at my allies and gave a thumbs up. They both returned the gesture and raised their weapons, waiting for my signal. I shouldered my newly-procured firearm and leaned out from behind the square pot. I aimed the red dot at the griffon furthest down the hall, and moved my finger over the trigger.

I took a deep breath in, and let it out slowly. The world around me seemed to slow down as adrenaline began pumping through my system. I waited. I wanted to shoot the bastard badly, but I held off. I waited until they stopped shooting. I saw the magazines in their guns drop to the floor. They began reaching into their vests for new ones. This was the time. They couldn't shoot back. It was now or never.

"Weapons free!" I shouted. I was loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear, and the griffons whirled around with looks of shock.

That's when the bullets started flying.

I sent two short bursts at my target, and watched him fly back into the wall. There were gunshots behind me, and another griffon went down. Not wasting any time, I swiveled my weapon to the next one down the line. He had a fresh magazine in his hand, and was moving it to his weapon. Oh, no you don't, I thought, sending a burst into his chest. He stumbled back before going limp on the ground. More gunshots from behind, and another griffon down. I was about to move on to the last one, when a number of bullets struck my cover, forcing me down. Looking back, I saw Flare and Dash in similar situations.

"We're pinned down!" I shouted as loud as I could, hoping it would carry to the Royal Guard. It seemed to work, as not a moment later, there were loud gunshots coming from that end of the corridor, and the barrage of bullets coming our way stopped. I peeked out to see the final griffon sprawled onto the floor, dead. There was movement behind his corpse, and equine figures could be made out in the darkness. I held up my right hand and eased myself to a standing position, "Friendlies! Hold your fire!"

The ponies talked among themselves to get the word out. I heard shouts of "Hallway clear!" and "Friendlies ahead!" It took me by surprise to see them acting so tactically. I mean, they were professional, but I never really paid attention to their chatter before. Mostly because I was busy shooting at them, but that wasn't relevant at the moment. Flare and Dash joined me at the center of the griffon corpses, where we met up with the sergeant. He took a moment to survey the scene around him.

"Damn," he said, "You Rangers really don't fuck around, huh?"

"Not when it counts," I replied, "Shouldn't celebrate just yet, though. We still have an entire building to clear."

"Right," the sergeant nodded. He barked a couple of orders to his soldiers, before turning back to me, "You with us? Or are you done being a hero?"

Suddenly, my thoughts returned to the baby-blue nurse mare for a moment, and what she said, "Actually, sergeant, I need to find the doctor. Any idea where he is?"

"He should be on the first floor. I take it you're going after him?" I nodded, and the sergeant said, "Alright. Take Dash and Flare with you. You'll need their help. I'm going to try to gather up what soldiers I have left and start clearing the second floor."

"We'll grab the doctor and any other survivors we find," I said, "We can link back up with you afterwards."

"Alright. Good luck."

So, we all split up. I headed back to the stairwell, with Rainbow Dash and Crimson Flare in tow. We reached the door to the stairs, went in and started down. As we descended, I took the magazine out of my gun and counted the rounds. I had half of a magazine left. I turned to my party, "Check your weapons. You good on ammo?"

Flare checked his magazine, and responded, "I've got twenty-four rounds left, and four spares."

"Dash?" I looked at the blue mare.

"I-I'm good," she said, without checking her pistol. Maybe she had counted them as she fired? It wasn't hard with a low-capacity pistol, but it still gave me an uneasy feeling.

I shoved the feeling to the back of my mind. There were more pressing matters. We went down the stairs until we couldn't go any further down, reaching a door labeled with a one. I cautiously opened it and peeked out to find a completely empty hallway. It was a welcome change of scenery from the blood and bodies, but it still raised some concerns. Where the hell was everyone? When Dash and I went through earlier, there were plenty of ponies on this floor. Granted, it wasn't as busy as the upper floors, but I expected to see someone down here.

"Stay sharp," I told my comrades before stepping out into the new hallway. They followed closely, and we swept through the first hallway without encountering anyone. We went right from the stairwell, towards the exits. I wanted to make sure nothing else got in before clearing the floor. My fears were, unfortunately, confirmed when we reached the reception area. The glass doors were shattered, and several guards were dead on the floor. No civilians, though.

"Eyes open," I reminded the equines following me, "Flare, check the front desk."

As the red-furred stallion moved towards the reception desk, Dash and I went to the center of the room, weapons up. I scanned the room around me before stopping my gaze outside. At some point between my walk outside and now, it had started to rain lightly. The wet concrete reflected the moonlight, giving it a white shine. It wasn't important to the task at hand, so I moved on, but Dash stopped when she saw it.

"Weird," I head her mumble to herself.

I turned back to look at her, "How is that weird? It's just rain."

"It wasn't scheduled, though," she said, merely adding to my confusion. She didn't notice my expression, and continued, "The weather ponies must still be laying low due to the fighting outside the city. Storm must have rolled in while they weren't looking."

I pretended to know what she was talking about, and ignored it. I could ask about it later; right now, we were still in combat.

"Sergeant, you need to see this," I heard Crimson Flare say, pulling me out of my thoughts. I moved over to him. He had moved behind the reception desk. I vaulted over to join him, and immediately saw what he meant. There was a single reception worker - a pink mare - on the floor, on top of a pool of blood that soaked the grey carpet. She had a bullet hole in her chest, but that wasn't what stood out the most about her. Her clothes were ruffled around the wound, as if someone had moved them and then replaced them.

Flare was bent over her body, examining it. He noticed the clothing too, and pointed it out, "It looks like her uniform's been moved; like they were checking the wound. Which might mean..."

"They tried to help her," I finished his thought as I knelt down on the other side of her body. I reopened her blouse, which caused the red around Flare's cheeks to darken, and looked at where the wound was. It was covered by a bandage, which was soaked through. She had been given medical attention, "No griffon did this - not from what I've seen of them. Someone else is in here, too."

"H-how can you be sure?" he asked, "Couldn't this have been a Royal Guard?"

"Unlikely," I heard Dash say. I had only then noticed that she had joined us, and was vaulting over the desk herself, "We don't carry medical supplies around with us."

"One of the doctors, then?" he offered.

I shook my head, "They would've known she was a lost cause. They'd have comforted her, but wouldn't waste a bandage. Not in an active combat zone."

"So, who could it be, then?" Flare asked.

I would have responded, if not for the gunfire erupting in the near distance, further into the hospital. The three of us jumped up and vaulted back over the desk. We raised our weapons and followed the sound of the shots. As we got nearer, another noise could be heard over the fighting.

Screams.

Author's Note

Somehow, I managed to get another double complete. I guess it's because I really like writing combat and death? Who knows :pinkiecrazy:

Hope you guys enjoyed this installment. I can say I'm finally starting to be really happy with how this is turning out. Again, hope you liked it.

Constructive criticism is appreciated. Thanks for reading.

Chapter 9: Ivory Shadow

I quickly but carefully moved through the first-floor halls of the hospital, the barrel of my MP7 pointing the way. My two companions - Rainbow Dash and Crimson Flare - stayed right behind me as we got closer and closer to the raging gunfight ahead of us. As we drew nearer, I could faintly make out screaming amid the gunshots. They were high-pitched. Female. We picked up the pace until we reached a closed door in the hallway. I had the equines stack up on the door with me, and we all burst through at once.

The door opened up into a large mess hall. Contained within it was yet another massacre. The bodies of fallen Royal Guard soldiers were everywhere. Their gold-plated armor was slick with blood. Among them were several hospital workers, seemingly caught in the crossfire, their white uniforms stained crimson. At the far end of the room from where we entered were eight human figures, standing in a line. They were clad in all black, and wielded high-tech tactical weaponry. They had their backs to us, and had their attention on a set of windows that opened up into what looked like a kitchen area. They were firing into the windows with short bursts from automatic rifles. Within the kitchen area, I saw glints of golden armor behind the various counters. I could also hear the screaming, much clearer now that there was no door muffling the sounds. It was coming from the kitchen as well, but I couldn't see the source.

Without hesitation, I ducked behind an overturned dining table and opened fire. My first two bursts dug into one hostile's back, making him lurch forward and fall to the floor. Dash and Flare followed my lead and took cover behind other tables. Flare began firing within seconds of my own volley, and dropped two of them with a long burst from his AK-47. The remaining attackers quickly realized that they were being flanked, and broke out of the line formation they were in to duck behind cover. They opened fire immediately, sending all three of us completely behind our tables. I began taking potshots in between the enemy bursts, firing two to three shots before getting back down again. Flare followed my example, and somehow hit one of them after his second try. I heard the man cry out and fall.

Dash seemed to be taking the bulk of the fire, as she never got the chance to fire her pistol. In an attempt to help her out, I stuck just my weapon out from behind my table and fired a prolonged spray of bullets, swaying it left and right to cover a lot of area. It seemed to work well enough; most of the enemy combatants stopped firing and ducked down to dodge the incoming volley. I kept firing until my gun went dry, signaled by a sharp click! I pulled my weapon back and took out the now-empty drum magazine before popping in one of my spare thirty-round magazines, leaving me with two still in reserve. As I chambered the first round, Flare again followed my lead and began firing at the hostiles, though he actually took the time to aim his shots. I heard another go down, leaving us with only three left to deal with.

They seemed to notice they were losing the fight, as they started taking turns firing to keep us behind cover as the others moved. They fell back to a door off to the right and slipped out of the room. I ordered Flare to cover the door as Dash and I swept the room for any surprise hostiles left behind. There weren't any, leaving the room clear apart from us. I called it out, and noticed the guards hunkered in the kitchen begin to slowly get up. As they gathered themselves, I took the opportunity to get a good look at the new players in this fucked-up game of war.

They wore all-black tactical gear, complete with full-face masks and shaded goggles. Their weapons mostly consisted of FAMAS F1 assault rifles, but two of them had been carrying HK-416 rifles. Their tactical vests were loaded down with magazines and first-aid kits. One of the two carrying the HK rifles had a radio on his belt, with a headset wired to it. I crouched down and pulled his mask off to take out his earpiece, and saw he was a middle-aged man with short, sandy-blonde hair and sky-blue eyes.

As the guards from the kitchen began moving out into the mess hall, accompanied by a few shaken hospital workers, I removed the radio from the dead man's belt and put the earpiece in my ear. If it was on an open frequency, I would be able to hear any chatter his allies sent out. As luck would have it, it was, and I immediately got to listen in to their distress calls. They weren't speaking in English, but in a different language that I understood. Thank God for high-school French classes. I tuned out the noise of the room around me to listen to the exchange.

"Command, this is Alpha One-Four. We have taken heavy casualties and are currently in retreat. My squad commander is down. Requesting immediate reinforcements and aerial support."

"Alpha One-Four, this is Command. Understood. Ground reinforcements en-route. Raven Three is overhead now. Just tell them where you need them."

Shit, not good. I thought. I hooked the radio to my own belt, but took out the earpiece for a moment so I could converse with the equines without being distracted. I stood up, and was about to turn around and look among the ponies for an officer when a familiar voice behind me caught my attention.

"James?" the tone of the voice was a mix of shock and relief. I turned around to see a brown stallion in a doctor's coat with jet black hands standing apart from the crowd of hospital workers. His ears were down flat, and he looked at me with a surprised expression on his face.

"Doc!" I exclaimed, jogging over to him, "Thank God you made it. I'm glad to see you."

"Likewise, friend," he said, smiling. He then turned to look at the human corpses on the floor, "I assume this is your handiwork?"

"Partially," I replied. I gestured to the red unicorn watching the side door, "He got most of them. The last three ran off."

"Which means this place is not secure yet," an unfamiliar, commanding female voice piped up from the crowd of equine guard-stallions. I glanced over to see a black earth mare with an off-white mane step out of the group and approach us. Upon her armor were officer's markings, and her gilded helmet was topped with a crimson-colored crest that ran transversely across her head. She had a revolver holstered at her right-hand hip, but no rifle in her hands. On her left hip was a sheathed sword - a gladius. The whole picture made it look like she had stepped out of an equine-themed Roman army and been given a gun.

Much like the rest of them, but this chick went all-out.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked her, not bothering to hide my confused amusement at her appearance.

She gave me a prideful smirk, placing a hand on her hip as she fed me her rap sheet, "I am Lieutenant Ivory Shadow, second-in-command of the Sixth Royal Guard, Second Security Battalion, First Company. Who - dare I ask - are you?"

"Sergeant James Blackburn, the human POW that just saved your ass," I said in a tone thick with annoyance, "Look, I don't have time for a pissing contest. We have much bigger issues at hand."

She gave me a curious look, as did half of the other guards in the room. The doctor raised an eyebrow and asked, "What do you mean, James?"

"I listened to their radio chatter. They've already got a chopper above us and more infantry are inbound. We need to get the hell out of here before we get completely overrun."

"We can't just leave," Ivory Shadow said. The way she pronounced "can't" revealed a faint English-like accent. I'd have found it cute under less dangerous circumstances.

"She's correct, James," the doctor agreed, "We can't evacuate the patients in time to..."

"There aren't any patients left, doctor," I cut him off, causing the entire room to look up at me in shock, "A force of griffons cleared all of the upper floors. Soldiers, staff, patients... they were all slaughtered. The only people we ran into was a squad's worth of guards on the second floor. They're working on checking the upper floors now, but I know they're not going to find anyone. The griffons were very thorough."

A silence befell the room as the news sank in. After a few moments, the sound of muffled sobbing could be heard within the huddled group of hospital workers. A nurse mare was crying her eyes out, her face buried in the shirt of a stallion in a custodian's jumpsuit. He held her close, comforting her. All of the others - guards included - just stared out into space with blank expressions. The final exception to the norm was Ivory. She just stood a few feet away from me. Her eyes were closed, and her hands were balled into fists and shaking from an anger she was trying to hold back.

I finally grew tired of just standing there, waiting for one of them to act. I turned to the doctor, who was now accompanied by Rainbow Dash. I hadn't noticed her until now, "Let's go, you two," I said, gesturing toward the door we had entered through. Dash nodded, and took hold of the still-shocked doctor's arm. As she led him towards the doors, I looked across the room to my other companion, "Flare, come on. We're leaving."

He gave a curt nod and backed away from the door he had been guarding. He kept his weapon pointed at the door until he was standing next to Dash and the doctor. I joined them, and took a second to check my gun, telling my comrades to do the same. Flare had to reload his rifle. Dash once again said she was fine, but didn't check her pistol. Granted, she didn't really have an opportunity to fire it in the last skirmish, but the way she avoided eye contact struck me as odd. Had we not been in an active combat zone, I'd have confronted her instead of just shrugging it off.

Before heading out, I turned to look at the equines in the room. Some of the guards had recovered a bit, and were going around trying to comfort the civilians. A few others took over Flare's position guarding the side door. The civilians stayed in a huddled mass, too shocked to do much else. Ivory Shadow was still standing in the middle of the room, her breath heavy. Her eyes were open now, and they contained a vengeful, angry fire. She looked ready to kill anyone who crossed her.

Not willing to be the one who ends up crossing the angry mare, I turned my gaze to the three ponies at the door. The doctor was looking at the floor with a solemn gaze, while the two armor-clad equines looked at me expectantly. Dash had her hand on the door's handle, waiting for permission to go. Crimson Flare broke the silence that had befallen our group.

"So, what's the next step, boss?" he asked, raising a dark-red eyebrow.

I answered immediately, "We double back and regroup with your squad, and bring them back here," I glanced back at the huddled group of civilians and guards at the other end of the room, "I don't think they're going anywhere soon. So long as we get back before enemy reinforcements arrive, we should be fine."

"Sounds like a plan," Flare nodded. He then lifted up his rifle, ready to leave as I put a hand on the free door. I signaled to Dash, and she nodded as well. Without another word, the two of us each shouldered open a door...

Only to be met with a squad of nine humans in French military uniforms, their eyes and weapons trained on the doorway. We didn't have the doors open for more than a second before slamming them closed again. They latched into place just as the enemy opened fire, and the thick metal of the doors started making plinking sounds as the bullets collided with them. The sudden noise jolted most of the guards into action, including Ivory Shadow. They all drew their weapons and eyed the door, waiting.

Not missing a beat, Flare once again broke the ensuing silence to comment, "Okay, not going that way. Anypony got a Plan B?" he asked, looking around the room.

While Ivory began contemplating options, I took command for the moment, ordering a few of the guards to help barricade the door. The lieutenant didn't seem to mind, as she didn't argue. With the guards help - especially Flare's unicorn magic - we managed to reinforce the door with three of the nearby dining tables. It wouldn't hold forever, especially if they were smart enough to bring explosives into the equation, but it bought us time to think our situation through. I took a look around the room, and even crossed over to peek into the kitchen. I found out quickly that the only other way out was through the side door in the mess hall. The one that the three French soldiers had fled through minutes before.

When I voiced this fact to the group, Ivory pulled herself out of her thoughts to say, "So, either way, we're fighting our way through?" I nodded. She then smiled confidently and held up her revolver, "Sounds good to me."

Rainbow Dash, however, wasn't as enthusiastic, "Is there another way we could go? One that doesn't require us to put civilians in the line of fire?"

"I wish there was, but no," I said flatly, "Right now, we only have two options: the door with three hostiles, or nine plus. Pretty easy decision to make."

"I agree," Ivory stated. She then looked at the soldiers under her command, "Alright, everypony up. We're moving."

The armored equines all stood up, followed shortly by the very shaken hospital staff. I took a second to do a headcount. Twelve soldiers, seven civilians. With Dash, Flare, Ivory and myself added, we had sixteen combatants on our side. One small platoon's worth. I hoped it was enough to get us through to the second floor. Once we linked up with the other squad, we would be fine. It was the time in between then and now that concerned me, especially with that helicopter supposedly above our heads. If we somehow stumbled into it's view...

I forced the thoughts out of my mind. Worrying about it like that wouldn't do any of us any good. Focusing my attention on the objective, I briskly walked over to the side door. It was still being guarded by three of the ponies. I stepped in front of them, stopping just in front of the door. I then turned and addressed the entire room, "I'll take point. Stay behind me and keep low." None of them argued.

Flare and Dash once again joined me at the door, and the three of us pushed the door open together. Keeping my gun leveled, I scanned the hallway beyond as I took a few cautious steps forward. Compared to the other hallways I had seen that night, it was practically untouched. There were no bodies, no shell casings. Not even the three soldiers that went through earlier were in sight, though it was obvious they had gone through. There was a trail of bloody boot prints in the center of the hallway's floor, slightly smeared - the culprit had been running pretty fast. One of the French soldiers must have stepped in a puddle of gore and left the trail. I kept moving, following the prints down the hallway until I reached a three-way intersection. The boot prints strafed off to the right, which a sign on the wall identified as the way to the Guard Barracks. Similar signs located a bit lower labeled the left direction as the way to the Stairwell and, further down, the Reception Lobby.

I looked over my shoulder at the ponies following me and locked eyes with Ivory Shadow, "Which way should we go?" I asked her.

She paused for only a second before replying, "We go right. Follow the cowards, away from the larger force."

I gave a curt nod and started down the right pathway. I tracked the bloody prints easily, their dark crimson hue a stark contrast to the white tiles of the floor, even under just the dim emergency lights. Eventually, though, they started to dissipate, marking where the blood on the boots had lost most of its volume. The tracks soon disappeared completely, and we were on our own. If the fleeing French soldiers had actually been my primary target, I would have been upset. Good thing they were little more than a minor concern in my mind. Refocusing, I began scanning the area for a way upstairs as we continued down the hall.

After turning at two more intersections - once left, once right - we stumbled upon another stairwell. This one wasn't walled off, but open to the hallway and very wide. It was also very dark; the emergency lights mounted to the walls had apparently failed, and never turned on. Grateful for my weapon's attached flashlight, I flicked it on and began up the stairs, lighting the way for the equines behind me.

The corridor that followed didn't fare much better in terms of lighting, but it was as clean as the ones below. More signs on the wall opposite the stairs labeled each path. To the left was all patient rooms, numbered from two-hundred to two-sixty. The right pathway was labeled as "Laboratories." As I finished climbing the stairs, stopping to wait for the group to make the trek up, I heard a few distant pops to the right. More gunshots. Not a raging battle, like the ones before. It sounded more like a clean-up crew.

With Rainbow Dash, Crimson Flare and Ivory Shadow following close behind me, we led the group of civilians toward the gunfire. It stopped altogether after only a few seconds, but we kept pushing forward. We knew the general direction, it shouldn't be long before we stumbled upon the carnage that preceded the shots.

Sure enough, after passing through three intersections and turning left at a fourth, we started passing by more corpses. No civilians this time; just Royal Guards and griffon mercenaries in roughly equal number. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the griffon bodies also had close-range bullet holes in the center of their skulls. We had just missed the others, but they did go this way.

"Eyes peeled, check your targets," I ordered, keeping my voice low and steady. I kept going, my weapon pointing the way.

We were now just following the battle's aftermath, hoping to catch up with the victors before someone else did. It led us through a twisted maze of hallways. Right, left, right, forward, right... It seemed to snake through the hospital's corridors, dodging makeshift barricades that were left in the hallways. As we went, the number of Royal Guard and griffon bodies lowered, replaced by more black-clad human soldiers. They all had close-range gunshot wounds to their heads, just like the griffons. At least I knew who was winning the fight so far.

Dash broke the silence as we kept moving, "How many do you think are left?"

"Friendlies, or hostiles?" I heard Flare respond.

After a pause, she replied, "Either."

"Don't fret, private," I heard Ivory chime in, "Your sergeant's a tough old mule. He'll make sure they all make it. And we can handle a few humans."

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from mentioning the equine bodies we had passed by. They had already lost a squad's worth of soldiers already. Though that fact made me wonder if they really had found other survivors. Surely, one pony couldn't just fight their through a platoon of heavily-armed French commandos unscathed.

Right?

I was brought out of my thoughts by the eruption of rapid gunfire. It was close; just to the hallway next to us and a bit further down. I sped up to a slow jog, trying to get there fast without risking stumbling into the crossfire. I heard the hoofsteps behind me increase to a similar pace. We crossed into the next corridor just as the gunfire ended. Had it not been for the equines behind me, I would have taken a bullet from one of the three Royal Guardstallions standing in the middle of the hall in front of about a dozen human corpses. The bodies were still leaking blood.

Huh, I thought, So, it wasn't just one pony after all.

Chapter 10: Distrust

The three Royal Guards stood proud above their fallen opponents, leaving my entire group awestruck. They looked like hell; their manes were matted with sweat, the gold plating of their armor was smeared with drying blood, and one of them had a bandage wrapped haphazardly around a still-bleeding leg wound. Despite all this, they looked confident. On top of the world. God, I did not envy their inevitable crash from that adrenaline high.

Of the three stallions in front of me, I recognized two of them: the brown-furred sergeant in the middle, and the grey pegasus pony to the sergeant's right. Greyhound, alive and... okay, not exactly well, but alive. The third soldier was a magenta earth pony with a dark blue mane. He was the one with the poorly-wrapped bandage on his leg, just above the knee. All three of them were carrying AK-47 rifles, the barrels of which were still smoking from the skirmish. To complete the picture, they all had confident, gloating smiles on their muzzles.

The sergeant locked eyes with me, and - his smile never dropping - asked, "What the hell took you so long?"

"Things got a bit complicated," I replied, lowering my weapon and flicking off its flashlight. I nodded to the bodies behind him, "As I see you've figured out."

"Eyyup," he said. Something stirred below him, drawing his attention to the floor. I followed his gaze down to see one of the human soldiers, barely alive and reaching slowly for a pistol that was laying on the floor by Greyhound's hooves. The sergeant sighed, "Oh, no you don't."

*Blam!*

A single shot rang out from his rifle, the bullet tearing through the human's black helmet and sending a stream of crimson splashing onto the nearby wall. I heard a couple of the civilians behind me screech at the sight, but none of the guards flinched. Well, except for one. I saw Rainbow Dash jump a bit out of the corner of my eye, more out of surprise than anything. At least, I hoped.

"Check the rest," the sergeant ordered the magenta stallion. He then turned back to me, "So, you ran into 'em, too, then?"

"Yeah. Too many for my liking," I said solemnly.

"They your boys?"

"No," I said a bit too quickly, "They're French. Special Ops. And they got a lot more inbound, including a chopper already overhead."

"Chopper?"

Before I could respond, the dull roar of helicopter rotors could be heard above us. We were only on the second floor, but a quick scan of the hallway revealed that we were on the outer edge of the hospital's west wing. The entire right-side wall was covered in large windows that filled the dark hallway with moonlight - or, what little moonlight there was. The light drizzle outside had picked up to a moderate downpour, and the sky was covered in dark clouds.

At the sound of the helicopter, Dash's ears went flat and she began looking around through the windows, "What was that?"

My mind recalled the radio chatter I had heard back in the mess hall, specifically the helicopter's callsign: Raven Three. In French, Corbeau Trois. I answered Dash with the latter. I heard her mutter something under her breath. Something about a rarity naming it? I couldn't make it out, and didn't feel it was important enough to ask for a repeat.

Ivory Shadow's voice pulled my attention away from the rainbow-maned rookie at the window, "So, now that we've regrouped, what shall we do?"

I turned to look at the black mare, "You're the officer here, ma'am. That's your call."

She nodded, but looked a bit flustered, "I suppose it is, but you seem to know what your doing. I'm requesting your opinion."

"Well..." I paused to think. It would have been easier if I knew the layout of the hospital. Since I couldn't rely on that, I instead gave the objective I knew we had to work towards, "We need to get out of here."

"What?" one of the soldiers behind Ivory blurted out, "Bullshit! We can fight these guys!"

"Let's take this place back!" another one chimed.

"We don't have the forces to take it back," I said, my voice rising a bit, "And we can't risk any more civilians. We need to get them out first and foremost. Then we can worry about taking it back."

"He's right. The citizens come first," Ivory agreed, addressing her soldiers. She then turned back to be, "What do you suggest, then? Where do we go?"

It suddenly dawned on me that she might not know what she was doing. Can't say that I blamed her; a designated security force like her's usually isn't expected to go up against hostile special ops teams, especially when stationed at a civilian-run hospital. I thought for a moment at her question. Where did we go from here? We get the civilians out, and then... what, exactly?

An idea suddenly sprouted in my mind.

"Surely, this can't be the only military stronghold in the city," I began, "Where else are you based out of?"

The brown-coated sergeant behind me answered, "Just the recruitment center. Probably about twenty Guards, give-or-take; and they're all sleeping right now."

"What about the militia?" I asked, shifting my gaze between the two officers.

"They'll rally as soon as they know what's going on," Ivory told me.

A plan slowly began to form in my mind, "Alright, so we can..."

"'We?'" I heard a voice from the back of the group. It was a young, but gruff male voice, coming from a dull orange stallion that was making his way up to me, "You keep sayin' 'we' like you belong here. Since when are you on our side?" There was an obvious venom in his words. I saw a few other guards give me dirty looks and nodding. Others just looked stunned, including Ivory Shadow.

The confusion I felt showed on my face as I looked at the suddenly aggressive soldier. Before I could get a word in, he continued, "Maybe you've forgotten, but you're still our prisoner. An enemy. So why the fuck are you helpin' us? Against your allies, no less?"

"They are not my allies," I shot back, narrowing my eyes at the stallion.

He didn't back down, "You said French. Last I checked, they were part of your little trifecta of invadin' forces. That makes these guys your allies, am I wrong?"

"Yes, you are!" I said angrily, "My men don't pull shit like this! I don't know what the fuck's going on, but I do know that these are not my men."

"Uh, guys, we have a problem," my ears vaguely picked up Rainbow Dash speaking as I defended myself, though my mind didn't process it. My anger at the soldier's disrespect clouded out everything else around me.

"What's your endgame, exactly?" the stallion continued, "Even if these ain't your boys, why're you helpin' us? Think we'll just forget about your P.O.W. status?"

"I am helping you," I said through clenched teeth, my voice seething, "Because these people are breaking several international laws with an attack like this. That, and my personal code won't let me just look away when civilians are being slaughtered before my eyes. As far as I'm concerned, that's reason enough."

Another stallion, a dark green one with a black mane, retorted before the orange one could, "You say that like your kind don't do this shit too!"

"We don't!"

"Uh, Sergeant Blackburn... Lieutenant Shadow... you guys should really come see this," this time, it was Crimson Flare's voice my mind barely registered. His voice was overlapped by the orange pony continuing his vocal assault.

"The fuck you don't! I've seen you humans shoot civilians down before!" he said in a raised voice.

"That's different," I said, though with less sting than my earlier words. They were starting to get to me, and not in ways that heightened my anger. The opposite, actually.

"How the hell is it different?" a hot pink mare guard joined in the argument.

I sighed, the fight leaving me slightly. I knew why, but I hated admitting it, "In combat... shit happens. A civilian moves into your sights when you don't expect them to. Your instincts kick in before your mind does. That's war, that's just how it is; but this," I spread my arms out in an all-consuming gesture, to indicate the entire hospital situation, "This shit just doesn't fly. Not in America's playbook."

The guards paused, not sure how to respond to that. Ivory continued to stare at me, and I saw the doctor giving me a similar shocked look. I realized I had just revealed a lot about myself to them. What I had more than likely done while in combat. I hated even thinking about it, and now I just told the ponies - who were still my captors - that I was probably guilty of such crimes. I wondered how the doctor's opinion of me had changed with this revelation. Would he hate me now? Fear me? Both?

"SERGEANT BLACKBURN!" an unfamiliar voice boomed through the hall, turning everyone's attention to the window. Rainbow Dash and Crimson Flare were looking out the window, eyes toward the ground below. Next to them stood Greyhound, who was looking back at me with an annoyed look. Was that him that just shouted my name? I opened my mouth to ask him why...

"Motherfucker, you can speak?!" Okay, not what I had intended to ask. Though, thinking back, I realized I had never heard him speak before. The most I could ever get out of him for the past three weeks was either a gesture or a grunt. Never words. The fact that he spoke now told me how dire the situation must have been.

"Come look at this," he said, waving a hand toward him and the window. I stepped forward, along with most of the guards and civilians. I took up the space directly to Dash's right. Ivory Shadow was right next to me, to my right. Our arms brushed against each other's as we all looked out at the compound below.

The entire west wing of the hospital's outside courtyard was filled with French military. About a dozen UN-marked Armored Personnel Carriers were parked around the lot, with a squad's worth of soldiers pouring out of each one. Most wore the standard French camouflage, but at least one team was made up of the all-black tactical units. They were swarming, moving about the yard in teams of four, towards the building. I had a feeling there was a similar make-up of units on the other sides of the hospital as well.

The cavalry had arrived.

"Well..." Ivory was the first to speak. She was oddly calm. That, or really good at faking it, "That certainly complicates things."

Before anyone could retort, I noticed one group of three black-armored soldiers moving away from the building. They approached a French soldier who was standing by a UN-marked Humvee - the only vehicle of that type on the lot that I could see. The man had no rifle in his hands, but a pistol at his belt. He wore a beret instead of a helmet. An officer, obviously in charge of the assault. Or, this portion of it, anyway.

As the three soldiers reached the officer, I had the foresight to put in the earpiece for my commandered radio. The four men talked for a second, before one of the three soldiers looked back and pointed at the building. Specifically, at us. Oh, no, I thought. This could not be good.

The radio cracked to life, and I heard the officer give out a command.

"Raven Three, we have sighted multiple hostiles on the second floor, west side. Engage immediately."

This was not good at all.

I opened my mouth to respond. I didn't need much time. Just two seconds, at most, for two words. "Get down."

I didn't get that time, though. Before I could even utter the first sound, a blinding light flashed into our eyes. The sound of a helicopter's rotors hit my ears, deafeningly loud amid the quiet of the hospital corridor. Instinct took over immediately. I grabbed the two mares beside me and pulled them down with me as I dropped to the floor. My movements triggered a few others to do the same, including Crimson Flare, but most were too slow.

Corbeau Trois opened fire.

Chapter 11: Escape Plan

Pain.

That was the first thing that registered as soon as the helicopter ended its barrage of gunfire. My bad leg was throbbing, and I could feel a weight pressing down on my entire left side. My eyes were clenched shut as I tried to pull myself up, but the weight resisted my actions and kept me grounded. Groaning, I opened my eyes. My vision was mostly blinded by a tuft of multicolored hair not three inches from my face. Before I could say or do anything, Rainbow Dash groaned as well and lifted her head up. At first, she looked pained and dazed, but after a moment of looking at our situation, her eyes suddenly widened and she tried pushing herself up, "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorr..."

"AH!"

The throbbing in my left leg became a sharp, stinging pain. I looked down at the appendage. Dash was kneeling on it with her left knee. When she tried getting up, the entirety of her weight went down onto my still-healing leg, right on the fracture. At my yelp of pain, she looked down and realized this as well, and immediately hopped over to the side as she repeated her apology. I was about to sit up when a whirring sound registered in my ears. I then remembered where we were.

"Get down!" I shouted at the mare, grabbing her and pulling her down. Not a second afterward, the French helicopter made a second pass. Its attached light shined into the hallway, casting dark shadows over us. If it weren't for the lower part of the walls still being intact, we would have been in plain view of the helicopter.

The radio cracked to life once again, "Command, this is Raven Three. Multiple enemies neutralized. Resuming standard flight pattern.

Seconds passed before the helicopter pulled back up. The light disappeared as the aerial vehicle went over the building and disappeared. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Dash helped me move over to the crumbling outer wall and take up a sitting posture. I used the opportunity to take in the room around me.

It was another massacre. Most of the civilians and guards weren't able to get into cover in time, and as a result, their corpses joined the French soldiers. White hospital uniforms were turned completely red on some of them, the chopper's miniguns making short work of their unarmored bodies. The guards didn't fare much better. The inner wall was peppered with black dots; bullet holes from the rounds that missed or blew through their victim. The floor was littered with shards of broken glass and chunks of drywall. Most of the pieces were also stained with blood.

As the roar of the helicopter dissipated, other sounds began to take its place. The groans of a wounded soldier - Greyhound - as he tried his best to put pressure on a leaking hole in his right foreleg. There was a whimpering, coming from the one surviving nurse mare. She was huddled over the body of the custodial worker, stifling her cries in his lifeless shoulder. The slight shuffling of hooves on broken glass as Ivory Shadow and the doctor began to stand up.

"Keep low," I warned them. The French soldiers outside were more than likely still watching the building, looking for movement. I didn't want to risk bringing that flying death machine back down on us.

The doctor began scanning the room himself, at first just taking in the carnage, but then with purpose. He started searching for survivors, anyone he could still help. His eyes eventually fell on Greyhound, and he did his best to rush over without going above the window line. I saw him loot a trauma kit from one of the fallen French commandos on his way over. A moment later, he was kneeling over the wounded pegasus, working to stop the bleeding.

The hall was quiet now, apart from the rain outside that was now falling into the building through the broken windows. After a few moments, a series of irregular pops could be heard in the distance. Gunfire. More clean-up crews. I realized we couldn't just sit here. We had to keep moving. It was only a matter of time before one of those clean-up crews stumbled upon us, assuming one wasn't already on its way, explicitly ordered by the officer to check this hall for survivors. I began positioning myself to get up. I bent my good leg first, and used it to start hoisting myself up...

Only to plop back down the moment I put weight on my bad leg. As soon as I had begun lifting myself, the throbbing in my leg flared up. Despite the pain, I tried again, this time trying to be extra careful with my leg. Alas, as soon as any pressure was put on the leg, the pain forced me back to the floor. So much for fully healed. Being stubborn, I positioned myself for take three, only to feel Dash place her hands on my shoulders firmly and hold me against the wall.

"Dash, help me up," I ordered, annoyance leaking into my tone.

"You are in no condition to be moving right now," she deadpanned, giving me a stern look.

"Damn it, Dash, we don't have time fo...OW!" Okay, take three didn't work out so well, especially with a pegasus holding me down. As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. I wasn't going anywhere with my leg fucked up the way it was. I didn't think it was broken again, but the doctor had told me after I started walking that it would still be sensitive. Having a pegasus fall on it must have done something to the weakened muscles. I could handle the weakness, but the pain had to be dealt with. Fast. My eyes fell on the doctor.

"Hey, doc," I called. He turned away from Greyhound to look at me over his shoulder, "You wouldn't happen to have painkillers on you, would you?"

In response, a small white bottle bounced to the floor at my feet. Dash grabbed it and handed it to me. There were a few red fingerprints from the doctor's bloodied hands on the base of the bottle. Ignoring them, I opened the bottle and examined the bright orange pills inside. It was still half-full of the medicine. I shook a couple of pills into my palm and popped them into my mouth, choking them down. My mouth felt a bit dry for a moment, but the pills kicked in immediately. The throbbing in my leg disappeared, and I could move it with a bit of effort. I slipped the bottle into my breast pocket.

I again asked Dash to help me stand, and this time she hesitantly obliged. I made sure to keep low, using a larger portion of wall between two window panes to hide myself from the hostiles outside before I straightened my back. My leg wobbled a bit, but didn't give out, and it didn't hurt anymore. After giving it a moment to adjust, I looked around again. First for my dropped weapon - which I found thrown across the hall - and second to do a head count. Thinking back, we had... twenty-four in our group, including me. That number had now dropped to a solid eight. Seven-point-five if you accounted for the fact that Greyhound was effectively out of commission. Apart from him and my original team - Dash and Crimson Flare - we had the doctor, Ivory Shadow, the nurse, and the orange earth pony guard. The one who had started the earlier argument. He was just now getting up, a shell-shocked look on his muzzle.

As I slowly crossed the hallway to retrieve my thrown MP7, careful to keep my head down, I noticed the limp in my leg was much worse than before. The pain was gone - temporarily whisked away by the painkillers - but the injury remained. I would have to be careful. I reached and recovered my weapon and, after a quick magazine check, turned to look at the scattered group of surviving equines.

"We gotta move, before they get here," I said flatly. I hated sounding so callous, but we didn't have time for subtlety. The gunfire in the distance was getting louder. Our enemies were closing in.

"Not gonna happen, Jay," Rainbow Dash responded. She gestured toward the wounded pegasus, "Grey doesn't look like he can move."

"She's right, James," the doctor added, not turning away from his work this time, "He'll live, but he's in no condition to move. He needs better medical treatment than this kit can provide."

"I'm afraid we don't have the option, doctor," I said. I pointed out the gunfire that was now growing in frequency as well as closing in distance.

"I understand, James," the doctor said, "But the corporal is still badly wounded. He cannot..."

"Don't worry about me, doc," Greyhound interrupted smirking, "It's just a flesh wound. Toss me some pills and help me up. I'll be fine."

Smirking myself, I pulled out the bottle and underhanded it to him. He caught it easily, and downed a couple of the painkillers. He tossed the bottle back before beginning to stand, with the doctor's and Flare's help. With no small effort, and while leaning on the doctor, he began limping slowly. Dash handed him his rifle. While he got used to his leg, I turned to the other half of our "team." The nurse was still cradling the dead custodial worker - her husband, perhaps? God, I hated thinking that. I had to chase away the thought that I had failed them. I did, but I couldn't dwell on it.

The gunfire drew closer.

Ivory Shadow was trying to snap the orange stallion out of his trance. I could hear her mumbling soft words of encouragement to the shell-shocked pony. What she said seemed to have worked, as he slowly lost his thousand-yard-stare and began nodding weakly. I saw him steel himself before standing straight and shouldering his rifle. Ivory turned to me, and I nodded to the nurse. Ivory nodded back, and went to work consoling the grieving mare. I then returned to the first half of the group, specifically the other two-thirds of my trio.

"Flare, you stay here with the group. Dash and I are going to scout ahead," I laid out my impromptu plan.

"We are?" Dash looked at me quizzically, her ears perking up.

"Yes," I nodded before bending down to retrieve a dropped AK-47 from the ground. I walked up to her and held it out, "We are. Give Flare his sidearm back, and take this."

She looked at the weapon I offered her with contempt for a moment before she sighed and did as asked. I saw Flare take his Tokarev from her and slip it back into its holster. Dash took the rifle from my hand and checked the magazine. It was fully loaded. She let out another loud sigh before looking at me and nodding.

I returned the gesture, and turned back to Flare, "Once everyone is ready to move, do it. The longer you wait here, the closer those death squads are going to get."

"You got it, sarge," Flare said, saluting, "Just to be sure I know, where are you going?"

"I'm going to look for a way down that doesn't require us doubling back," I replied. At this point, I had worked out the rough sketch of a plan, "Once we get down to the first floor, we need a way outside."

"Outside, sir?" he looked at me with a confused expression, along with the rest of the group, "With all of... them still out there as well?"

"What exactly are you planning, James?" the doctor asked.

I pointed out towards the windows with a thumb, "The APCs. We're going to take one."

The collective "What?!" from all of the equines was almost comical.

The bulky griffon stood atop the roof of the abandoned warehouse opposite the hospital, behind four griffon snipers. He looked out onto the battlefield, pleased with the work of his soldiers. He even gave a nod of appreciation to the quick response of the humans' backup forces. Though, he had to wonder why the forces needed to be called in the first place. He knew the reason, of course - the human tactical team had been flanked and lost most of their men - but what would have caused them to lose that many men? Surely the ponies couldn't have executed such a maneuver in their surprised state, right? The humans even had to retreat just to make it out long enough to send the signal. Despite his confusion, he somewhat admired the humans' sense of self-preservation.

Though, he also knew how big of a weakness it was. A human would do almost anything, even abandon their sense of morals or their friends, to ensure they live to see another day. His griffons weren't so naive. They were the best mercenary force on Equus. They followed his orders without question, and would lay down their lives for the mission readily. That was what made his griffons the best; they had no morals. No families. Nothing to hold them back. All they had was the mission, and each other.

The fluttering of wings behind him drew his attention away from the hospital. Behind him stood another griffon, this one slightly slimmer. Younger. He wore the human tactical gear that was so kindly gifted by their new allies. When the griffon landed and straightened himself, he saluted his commander. The older griffon saluted back before addressing his subordinate.

"Status report."

The younger griffon wasted no time responding, "Most of the hospital is clear, colonel. We just have a few pockets of resistance from what little remains of the Royal Guard presence within the building, the largest of which has now been taken out by the human flying machine."

"How many griffons did we lose?" the colonel asked.

"We've found twenty bodies so far, sir. No wounded," the young one replied without a hint of emotion.

The colonel growled at that. It was far more than he had calculated. He was normally on-point with casualty estimations. How did the ponies get the best of so many of his soldiers? He reasoned that the dead griffons must have been the weakest of his force. Dead weight, even before death. He would have to be more careful when recruiting their replacements.

"Colonel Steelclaw," one of the griffon snipers called out, bringing him out of his thoughts, "I see movement on the second floor."

Steelclaw turned and looked at the building again, "Our soldiers?"

"No, sir," another sniper replied, "Ponies. At the point of the helicopter's attack. And sir... they're not alone."

"What do you mean?' Steelclaw walked up to the ledge and picked up a nearby pair of binoculars. He looked through the magnifying tool at the spot the sniper had said - the remains of the shot-out windows. Sure enough, a small group of ponies were standing up, and with them was...

A human?

Not only that, but a human wearing the uniform of the United States military, one of the three main human factions - and the ponies weren't shooting him on sight, even with a weapon in his hand. Well, thought the colonel, This has just gotten interesting.

"Shall I engage, sir?" the first griffon sniper asked.

"No, hold," Colonel Steelclaw replied. He pulled a radio out of a pouch on his vest. It was tuned to the humans' frequency; specifically, their "Forward Operations Base" on the other side of Manehattan. He would have to call this information in before he did anything. He knew the humans would want to know. They hated being out of the loop.

He pushed the button on the side of the radio, and spoke into it, giving out his assigned callsign. Gods, he hated these technicalities. Why the humans couldn't just say their names on these devices, he had no clue. It was so much simpler, and didn't require the inclusion of numbers. Regardless, he played along. Didn't want to upset his new clients so soon into the contract. He didn't get payed that way.

After waiting for and receiving a reply from "Fortress," the colonel began relaying his new information, "I have discovered an interesting being among the ponies' ranks. Specifically, a human." he emphasized.

After a moment of pause, the radio operator from the FOB responded, "Are you sure he's human?"

"Positive," the old griffon said, "And that's not all. He's wearing an American uniform, and the ponies are trusting him with a weapon. I even see dead humans at his feet."

"Copy, wait one," the voice cut out for a moment, leaving the griffons alone.

"Sir?" the sniper asked for direction, for orders.

"Hold off for a moment," the colonel replied, "Just keep watching him."

"He's breaking off from the group, sir," one of the other snipers informed him. The colonel raised his binoculars once more. Sure enough, the human was now moving down the hallway with a rainbow-maned Royal Guard. The rest of them held back.

"Keep tracking those two," he ordered the first sniper. He then tapped the shoulder of the second, "You, keep an eye on the other ones. The rest of you, resume scanning."

They all gave curt "Yes, sir"s before carrying out their orders. As Colonel Steelclaw watched the human round a corner and disappear - much to the griffon's dismay - the radio cracked to life.

"Colonel, this is General Morrison. The man you found is now considered a hostile entity. Eliminate him immediately."

"I would love to, general," the colonel said mockingly, "But you boys took so long, the opportunity has passed. Don't worry, though. We'll take care of him as soon as possible."

"Don't put it off too long, colonel. He is a very dangerous loose end. If this plan is to work out, he needs to be dealt with."

"I understand perfectly, general," the griffon clicked the radio off and slid it back into its pouch. He then addressed his snipers, "Once you see the human, don't fire without permission. I want to see just what he's up to first."

Then, a thought slipped its way into the colonel's head. A way to make thing much more interesting, "On second thought," the griffon pulled out his radio again and tuned the frequency to the one his griffon soldiers were using, "All units, this is Colonel Steelclaw with an update to your orders. There is a human in the building, allied with the Equestrians. He is wearing U.S. military camouflage, and has been marked as a 'hostile entity' by our clients. He was last sighted near the second floor laboratories. Whoever brings me his head gets a large bonus on top of your normal cut.

"That includes you louts as well." the colonel told his snipers after the radio was once again off. A wicked smile crossed his beak. This was going to be very interesting to watch.

Author's Note

The plot thickens :pinkiegasp:

I know the last chapter was a bit short, and kinda out there, and I apologize for that. I just didn't know where I wanted to end it, so I just kinda ended it the first chance I got. Again, sorry.

We're almost done with the hospital stuff, though. Just one, maybe two chapters left. Then we get to carry on to the interesting stuff.

As always, thanks for reading. Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.

Chapter 12: Heat of the Moment

"Remind me why I had to come along?"

Rainbow Dash had been quiet until we parted from the group and rounded the corner. Now, she was walking alongside me, to my right. Her newly-procured AK-47 was in her hands, and she kept the barrel pointed downwards as we walked. Both of us kept our eyes forward, weary of the many hostiles that now filled the building.

I answered her question with one of my own, "If I had told you to stay put and taken Flare with me instead, would you have stayed back?"

She scoffed a bit, "Heh. Guess not."

"Exactly," I said with a smirk.

As we ventured further into the laboratories, I noticed the structure of the rooms change drastically. Where the rest of the hospital had closed-off rooms with only one door into each, most of the lab rooms were far more open. Many interior walls were made either mostly or entirely of glass, making it much easier to see what was beyond each turn. It reminded me strongly of a forensics lab; the kind you see on those C.S.I. shows on television, shows that I watched religiously as a kid. Even the rooms themselves were full of island counter-tops littered with sheets of paper, beakers, and microscopes. Some of the rooms had much larger machinery as well. It made me wonder if it was more equipment gifted by Russia and China, or if the ponies developed it themselves. Surely the former, right? I'd seen plenty of pre-portal Equestrian tech, and it was nowhere near on the same scale as the machines around me now.

At each intersection we passed, I stopped to mark which direction we had gone, leaving a trail for the others to follow. I used a red-colored marker I had found on one of the dead French commandos. It was a fairly new tactic that most NATO armies had adopted within the past year or so, and one I had originally been hesitant to implement within my own Ranger company. It came in handy now, though, especially since all of the markings were standardized. An arrow indicated a unit moved in that direction, an "X" meant a sector had been searched and cleared, a circle indicated a need for a re-sweep, et cetera.

The spin I put on it now to ensure we weren't followed by any hostiles was by using the "X" to indicate where we went. After I roughly explained the markers to them, only the group of ponies behind us knew what the "X" would mean in this instance. Any French forces that came across one of my X's would take it at face value and its normal meaning, thus ensuring we weren't followed. That was the hope, anyway.

The only real issue now was that both Dash and I were basically going in blind. She had never been in this wing of the hospital, so not even she knew the layout. We were banking on finding a sign that identified the location of the stairwell, but six intersections later, we were still looking. Dash eventually spotted what looked to be more direction signs, beyond a large room surrounded by plate-glass windows. The fastest way to the signs was to cut through the room.

Dash led the way as we slipped through the locked-open glass doors into the room. It was labeled as the "Experimental Chemicals" laboratory, and there were signs posted on the glass warning of unauthorized entry and the presence of armed guards supposedly always on watch. At first, I merely made passing glances at the strewn-about research papers around the room, but the cerulean mare ahead of me made a comment that caused me to do a double take.

"Jeez, look at this place," she said, waving her head back and forth to take in the entire room, "It looks like a tornado went through here."

When I looked again, I noticed she was right. Whereas most of the labs we had passed by earlier were very clean and tidy, with nothing out of place, this room had papers flung all around. They were scattered on the counter-tops, on the floor - some even ended up flying through the doors and out into the hallways. Glass beakers and bottles were everywhere as well, some of them crushed or shattered. There was only one stack of papers that seemed even remotely in order, spread out evenly along the center island. Despite our surroundings, curiosity took hold and I stopped to take a look.

The way the entire file was spread out so evenly told me that whoever had torn this room apart had found what they were looking for, and had left it sitting out. Like they wanted it to be found. The first word to catch my eye was the bold red letters on a number of sheets reading "CLASSIFIED. My eyes scanned the finer print below the stamped warnings, looking at what the research was about. My eyes immediately locked onto the chemical's common name and purpose: Truth Powder.

"Hey, Dash," I found myself saying, "Come look at this."

She was by my side immediately, looking at the same page I was. She mouthed the chemical's name as I handed her the sheet to peruse and began looking though the others. They were detailed reports of the experimental tests and the subjects under them, all in order. The first few were controlled, consensual tests to find the correct dosage and measure it's effectiveness. The ones after that was where it got interesting - the next few tests were on domestic Equestrian prisoners. Murderers, rapists, gangsters... all given this chemical and coaxed into confessing their crimes.

The researcher's notes quickly revealed the scientist had a theory she called the "Mental Wall," and that the chemical would allow an interrogator to work his/her way past this "wall" with careful wording. It didn't force the truth out, just made the subject more open to conversation. The researcher also noted a side effect she couldn't find a fix for: after the chemical wore off, the subject experienced bouts of amnesia that made it impossible for them to remember the details of the conversation. They knew that one took place, but not what it was about, aside from the general topic in a select few cases. I could feel a chill run up my spine as I kept reading.

The research immediately moved on from criminal test subjects to military subjects. Prisoners of War. There were five, all names I recognized from one time or another. I had even served beside a couple of them. Specialist Dan Meyer, a Ranger from a different platoon, and Private Jacob Pullman of the U.S. Marine Corps. were the two I had fought beside at least once. I wasn't sure why I remembered their names, but seeing them now brought back a heap of combat memories. Besides those two, there was also Corporal William Pennyfeather (just "Penny" to his friends, according to his file) of the British Special Air Service and Vadim Mirov - a supposed traitor of the Russian Army. The last name I also recognized. It was someone I had fought beside for every battle I had every fought in.

The last subject was me.

"Left up ahead," Crimson Flare called out each marker as he spotted it, leading what little remained of the survivors through the maze of laboratories to what they all hoped was a way out.

By this point, they had all come to terms with the fact that they couldn't stay any longer. Sergeant Blackburn had finally gotten through to them, with the unwanted help of the helicopter attack that wiped out most of their numbers. Flare could still see their bodies, the images burned into his mind. He didn't stop though. He kept going, using the horrid images as a reason to not stop. He would keep going, for them. He owed them that much.

He kept his weapon pointed down the hall as he walked, waiting for a chance to drop another attacker. It scared him a bit, how fast he had taken to killing other beings. Though, he had to admit that the sight of his friends and comrades dead on the ground might have helped with that. Every enemy killed was a friend avenged, and he was more than willing to be one to do it. Unlike some ponies in his unit. Ponies like Rainbow Dash.

Flare had noticed it. He was sure the sergeant had noticed too, but just chose to ignore it. Flare didn't, though. He just kept his muzzle shut for now. It didn't change the fact that he knew, though. He knew how Dash hadn't fired a single shot all night. She had barely even pointed her weapon at the enemy. Most of the time, she just ducked behind cover until the shooting stopped.

He knew he had to mention it. If not to her directly, then to Blackburn. He would know what to do. Flare had only known him for, what, a few hours? But in those few hours, Flare saw how good of a soldier he was. He was a leader. Someone who Flare wanted to be like. It was kinda funny, getting a feeling like that about a human. A human that was - for all intents and purposes - an enemy soldier. A prisoner of war. He didn't let that stop him, though. He still helped the Equestrians when they were under attack. All because the griffons had changed the rules. They were attacking civilian targets, and killing without mercy.

Crimson Flare saw no reason not to return the favor.

"Go right up here," Flare informed his comrades as he spotted another marker. As he approached the intersection, he made a passing glance to the left, down the hallway going in the opposite direction. What he saw made him stop and look harder.

There were two human soldiers, wearing what Blackburn had identified as French military camouflage. They looked lost and confused - they were somehow separated from their team and were now in the process of trying to contact support using their radios. As soon as Flare had rounded the corner, one of the humans noticed the movement and turned his head to look. As soon as he laid eyes on the red unicorn, his eyes went wide with fear. He threw his hands up, and began pleading in a foreign tongue Flare couldn't understand. This caused the Frenchman's partner to turn and look, and he immediately copied the first soldier's gestures.

*Ra-ta-tat... Ra-ta-tat!* Two short bursts blasted out of the barrel of Crimson Flare's AK-47. Both of the Frenchmen dropped to the floor in a bloodied heap, the bullets tearing through their unarmored chests. The young private didn't even flinch.

He continued on, either unaware or ignoring the cross looks aimed his way by the doctor and his lieutenant.

"Straight now."

"Jay, I swear, I didn't know!" Rainbow Dash was quick to redirect my anger away from her. The thought wouldn't have crossed my mind anyway, but she felt the need to reassure me. Not that I could blame her - even I was sure my ears were physically steaming.

I had to force myself to calm down, leaning against the counter-top and taking deep breaths to try and slow my rapid heart rate. It took a moment, but eventually my anger subsided enough for me to focus on the task at hand. Though I made sure to gather up the Truth Powder file and stow it beneath my jacket. Someone had some explaining to do. Hopefully, the doctor could provide some answers. If not, I would just have to start tearing through the rank-and-file of the Equestrian military until I found someone who could. That was an issue for the future, though.

After securing the file, I took one last deep breath before we continued on. We exited the room on the other side and closed the distance to the signs. For once, luck was on our side. There was a stairwell to the right, actually visible from our position. It was another open staircase, and looked clear of hostiles. We had found our way down. I pulled out the red marker and placed a series of three small X's around the sign for the stairs. A bit improvised, but Flare was smart. He would figure it out.

"Looks like we finally caught a break," I heard Dash say. She was looking at me, a small smile on her face.

I returned the smile, but played it cool, "We're not out of the woods yet, rookie. Let's keep moving."

She nodded, "Alright. You lead the way this ti-"

We both stopped to listen. The building was deathly quiet now, but I was sure there was a noise. The fact that Dash stopped too told me she had heard it as well. Someone was moving. The noise had been muffled, but originated from behind the wall in front of us; the wall that held the directional signs. There was a wooden door just to the right, closed. I brought my MP7 up to my shoulder and inched over to the door. Dash was right behind me, her own rifle held up in her hands - though her's was shaking a bit. As my left hand wrapped around the doorknob, I prayed that we had run into another survivor. A pony who had been smart enough to keep their head down when the shooting started and was lucky enough not to get caught.

The door opened up to a closed-off laboratory. The far wall was covered in plate windows, while the other three were lined with cabinets and counters. There was also a large island counter in the center of the room that easily took up half of the limited space. The room was dark as well, with nothing but my weapon's flashlight and the moon shining through to illuminate it. I did notice that it had stopped raining. The storm had finally passed, making it much easier for the moon's rays to shine. It would have been a very picturesque sight, had it not been for the spattering of crimson on one of the windows and the crumpled mass of a dead scientist mare in the far corner of the room.

"Dammit," I muttered under my breath as my eyes fell on the dead scientist. So much for finding survivors.

For a moment, my judgement slipped. My weapon lowered, and I began walking across the room towards the body. My eyes never left her bloodied form. Not until I caught movement in my peripheral vision. As soon as it registered, my eyes flicked over to the side. I was just in time to see the glint of the knife's blade as it swung in a wide arch towards me. My instincts took over, and I threw my arms up to parry the attack. I was partially successful; instead of digging into my flesh, the knife and the arm holding it knocked mine to the side. I felt my weapon fly from my hands and heard it clatter onto the floor.

I immediately prepared for my attacker's next attempt, and managed to catch his arm as he tried a downward strike. We fell into a lock, with the blade of the knife the only thing in my vision. His momentum during the move pushed me back, and I found myself arched back onto the center island as I tried to push the knife out of my face. He was strong - strong enough that i had to put everything I had into just keeping his knife from getting closer than it already had.

We went back and forth for what felt like an eternity. The knife went closer, then backed off. Forward, back, forward, back. It started staying closer for a bit longer each time. He started gaining ground. I was losing this fight. I could feel and hear my own heartbeat, thumping hard in my ears. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping me going, and it was running out.

I felt the tip of the blade poke at my neck, sending a bolt of pain through my body. My arms were growing weak. I couldn't fight him anymore. The blade inched closer and closer...

*Blam!*

My attacker's feathered head exploded in a mist of blood and brain matter. His entire body went limp and practically flew to the side, with a little help from my now-uncontested push against him. He plopped onto the linoleum floor, dead before he hit the ground. For a second, I just stared at him as a puddle of blood oozed out of the new hole in the side of his head. Then, my mind and gaze turned to my savior. Rainbow Dash was standing a few feet away, her rifle still aimed at where the griffon had been standing. The barrel of her weapon was smoking from the recently-fired round. Her eyes were widened as much as I had ever seen them. Her ears were drooped down. At first, she was steady. As if she was frozen. Then, I saw her entire body start shaking and tears begin to form in her wide eyes.

Without a word, I rushed over to her. I used one arm to lower her weapon, which she quickly let fall to the floor. In the same motion, I wrapped my other arm around her and pulled her close. She didn't respond at once. For a moment, she just stared down at the body of the griffon she had killed. I felt her arms wrap loosely around me, then tighten as she buried her muzzle into my chest. Her tears flowed freely now, and were accompanied by soft whimpers. I used my free hand to stroke her mane soothingly, and whispered reassurances into her ear, telling her that it was over. She did good. It was over...

*****

"Truth Powder Research Log number sixty-two, Dr. Sunnyside recording..."

The audio log I had found on the deceased scientist mare played on, filling the otherwise-quiet room with noise. The name - Dr. Sunnyside - was the same one as on the Truth Powder file. She was the head of the project; the chemical's designer and top researcher. I let the log play in the background, half-listening as I tried to comfort the still-living mare in my arms. It had taken a few moment to coax Rainbow Dash over to the other side of the room, getting the corpse of her first kill out of her sight. I was a difficult decision to move her, seeing as I now had bodies on both sides of the room to worry about. She seemed to calm down a bit, though. She stopped crying. Now, she just nestled the side of her head into my chest as she stared at the floor, not saying a word. We were sitting down against one of the plate windows, facing inward. I used one hand to keep stroking her mane as the other held the audio recorder that was playing the log. I wondered if Dash was actually listening, or if she was mentally miles away.

"The first test of the chemical on Subject Thirteen was a success, the recording went on, "Captain Shining Armor conducted the interrogation this time, and he proved successful. The subject's answer pattern matches that of the other human test subjects perfectly. I went ahead and gave the Captain permission to pursue more direct lines of questioning. With any luck, the remnant effects of the drug in Subject Thirteen's system will make the second session easier. I have already instructed his caretaker to keep giving him the treated painkillers, even without scheduled interrogations. The more his body gets used to the chemical, the easier it will be."

The recording skipped for a second before continuing, "Update on Subject Thirteen's reaction to the Truth Powder. He is also experiencing near-complete amnesia once the effects of the drug have worn off, just like all subjects before him. This is upsetting - I had hoped this newest batch fixed that issue. We'll just have to keep working on it. In the meantime, I guess it might be better if he doesn't remember. From what his caretaker told me, I don't think he would react well with some of the answers he gave to the Captain. He's a pretty patriotic guy. Figuring out he had said such... neutral things about his country wouldn't sit well with him... I have instructed my team to keep tweaking the formula. With any luck, we'll sort out this side effect before Subject Thirteen's transfer to the military prison in Cloudsdale."

The recording finally ended with a resounding *click*. I tucked the recorder away in one of my ACU jacket's pockets. I then looked down at the cerulean pegasus next to me. The fur around her eyes were matted from tears, and her eyes were bloodshot. Her breathing was unsteady, alternating between short and quick breaths to long, drawn out sighs. I wasn't sure if she was even with me right now, but we couldn't just sit here. The rest of our group was more than likely almost caught up to us, and we still needed to clear a path downstairs and find an exit. I had to get her moving.

"Dash," I began gently, not bringing my voice above a whisper, "We need to go now."

She didn't respond; didn't move. Even her eyes were fixed open, staring at a spot on the floor. Sighing, I decided to try something a bit more direct. I began to pick myself up, carefully bringing her with me. She didn't resist, but didn't actively help, either. Even when she was on her feet, her thousand-yard stare didn't waver. It was starting to scare me. The loud, confident, cocky mare I had met two weeks ago was nowhere to be found, replaced by a near-lifeless shell of her former self. Despite how many times I had seen friends in similar conditions, it was heartbreaking. Even more so considering how innocent she had been up until tonight. Sure, she liked to talk big, but I knew better. She had never wanted this; she wasn't prepared for it. And I had led her through it like she was a grizzled veteran. It was my fault she was like this.

With a fresh feeling of guilt washing over me, I desperately tried to get a response out of her. In my clouded judgement, I grabbed her shoulders forcefully and practically shouted her name. It seemed to partially work; she jolted out of her daze and turned her gaze to me, looking into my eyes with an expression of shock and fear. I immediately realized my mistake, and opened my mouth to apologize when she spoke up for the first time since entering the room.

"I-I... I k-killed him..." she started shaking again, but no tears came this time. She just let her body go limp and continued to stare into my eyes.

Thankful for the progress, I carefully chose my next words. Now, I was in familiar territory; I knew what to say, "Dash, you didn't have a choice."

"I... I could've pulled him off..." she started. She had obviously been thinking about it all this time.

"No, Dash," I replied, returning her dazed look with a stern one of my own, "He just would've turned that knife on you. He would've killed you and me both. You did what you had to do. You saved us both."

"I... I saved...?" her expression turned confused. I nodded in response.

"If you hadn't have stopped him, he would have killed you, me, and God knows how many others."

She nodded, slowly coming to terms with the necessity of her actions. Though, I could still hear the hurt in her voice as she asked, "Why do I still feel so... dirty?" She had trouble finding the last word.

I knew the answer to it, though, "Because you're a good person, Dashie." I brought the point home my wrapping her in an embrace. She hesitated a moment before returning it. While close to her, I whispered, "You won't have to do anything like that again. I promise."

For a slight second, I heard her laugh. Just a huff of an exasperated chuckle, barely one syllable's worth, "You're a bad liar, Jay."

"Yeah. I know."

Author's Note

Wow... kinda dark at the end there, huh?

So, how do you guys think I did this time around? I'm asking because... that ending... I feel like it went a bit too fast. What do you guys think? You think Dashie recovered too fast? I have no idea.

Next chapter should be the last for the hospital arch. Then we get to move on to somewhere new, which I can't wait for. I really should start planning ahead and mapping out the story a bit instead of going in blind like I have been so far. But what can I say, I'm a lazy bastard.

As always, constructive criticism is appreciated!

Chapter 13: Tale of the Rabbit

Sgt. James Blackburn
75th Ranger Regiment - U.S. Army (MIA)
Manehattan General Hospital
August 7th, 2018; 11:34 P.M.

Alright, I thought, Let's see what you got.

I was bent down over the dead griffon, rummaging through his few belongings. Rainbow Dash was across the room, sitting atop the island counter and staring at the wall perpendicular to the windows. After our talk, she had asked for another minute to compose herself. While she was doing that, I decided to check out the body of her first kill. I looked for weapons, ammo, and intel. In that order.

Weapons-wise, he didn't have all that much. There was his knife, which -- upon closer inspection -- I saw was a very ornate steel dagger. It had an ivory handle, and the pommel was molded in the shape of a bird’s head -- an eagle, or perhaps a falcon. There were ornate engravings in the metal around the handguard, as well. Looped into the griffon’s belt was a sheath that matched the decorations on the handle, with more depictions of birds of prey. Apart from that, he also had a pistol on his thigh, in a black drop-leg holster. Removing it from its holster revealed that it was an H&K USP45, a German-made tactical pistol. This one had a suppressor attached to the barrel, and special “night sights” that glowed green to help with target acquisition in low-light environments.

The only issue I found with the weapon was its ammo count: only two bullets. One in the chamber, and one in the magazine. Sighing loudly, I searched the griffon's body for spare magazines, but came up empty. In fact, he didn't even have any pouches for more ammo. He fought with just his knife and the twelve-round magazine in the weapon already. He was either very stupid, or very skilled with a knife; or a bit of both.

Before continuing my search, I relieved him of his belt and donned it myself. As I was fastening it, however, I noticed the small pistol that was tucked into the back of my pants. Dash’s Makarov. I had completely forgotten I had it. I brought it out so I could continue gearing up, letting it rest on the floor for the time being. Once the belt was secured around my waist, I returned the two weapons to their places on it. Then, I resumed searching the griffon.

Apart from the weapons and belt, he was actually pretty bare-bones equipment-wise. He was wearing a black tactical vest, but all of the ammo pouches were empty. There was a radio in a pouch on the belt, which I had taken out and replaced with my own. Other than that, there was nothing. At least, nothing at first glance. Just when I was about to give up, I noticed a very slight bulge in the left thigh pocket of his pants. I ripped the pocket open and pulled out its contents: a small notepad and a pen.

I flipped the pad open and began reading the notes inside. The first few pages looked like surveillance notes. Patrol schedules, entrances and exits, a list of the occupied floors of the hospital. The entries dated back several days; they had been scouting the building for almost a week.

The next few pages were hand-drawn (claw-drawn?) maps of the first two floors, with a red line trailing a specific route. It led from a side-door on the first floor up to the laboratories. The line stopped in one of the rooms near the edge of the map, and a red “X” marked the destination. Just looking at it, I knew it was the glass room that I had found the Truth Powder file in. I also deduced that it would be easy to reverse the map’s planned course, and I could lead our group out the side door on the floor below. We had our way out.

The final page with wording on it was the most unusual. It consisted of two lines. The first read FA - 329.81000, and the second read N - 338.21700. It took me a moment, but I eventually recognized them as military radio frequencies. The one labeled “FA” I knew -- after a bit of thinking back -- was the frequency most commonly used by the French ground forces stationed in Equestria. The other one I didn’t recognize. Either way, it was a good bit of intel.

I tucked the notepad into my right jacket sleeve -- along with the pen -- and stood up. I took a moment to pick up Dash’s pistol, as well as recover my MP7, which had gotten knocked across the room during the earlier scuffle. Then, I returned to my cerulean companion. She was still staring at the wall, her blue hands clasped together and arms resting on her lap. She looked like she was deep in thought. She had lost her thousand-yard stare, but she still looked hurt. Depressed. Broken, even. Wordlessly, I walked over and sat on the countertop with her. I mentally searched for a way to approach the subject of leaving; our group was probably almost caught up with us by now, and we still needed to clear a path downstairs. Just before I opened my mouth, though, Dash spoke up first.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked.

“You just did, but yeah,” I said, trying to lighten the dim mood with a bit of bad humor, and failing miserably. Her expression didn’t change.

“W-what was your first like?” she asked after a pause, “Your first… k-kill, I mean. How did you react?”

I was about to reply, but had to pause. There were a couple of answers for that question.

“Depends,” I finally said, “First kill, or first human kill?”

“You’ve killed other things?” she finally looked away from the wall, to me. Her expression shifted to a look of curiosity, with a bit of grimness still present.

“My dad used to take me hunting when I was younger,” I answered, “I hunted every local animal from squirrels to coyotes... even bagged a deer or two when I was in high school.”

“You hunted deer?” she said, sounding appalled. It took me a second to remember that deer were sentient on Equus.

“They’re… different back home,” I clarified, “Stupider. Just animals. Can’t tell you how many I’ve had jump in front of my truck over the years.”

She nodded, and kept quiet for a moment. Finally, she asked again, “So, what was your first one like?”

I gathered the details in my mind, saying them out loud, “I was about… oh, eight? Dad had taken me out a few times before that, but we didn’t get anything on those trips. This one, though… Dad was sure we’d get something. He could always tell about those kinds of things. Like he had a sixth sense, or something. So he loaded up his old shotgun, handed me my little kid-sized rifle, and out we went.

“I remember it was cold that day. Tail end of gun season, late November. We walked around the forest for hours. Dried leaves were everywhere, so we had to move real slow, or we’d scare away the animals. Eventually, we stopped at this small creek to take a break. We sat down on a fallen tree near the creek bed. My dad started getting snacks out of his backpack; he always brought something with him when he hunted, since he planned to be out all day.

“So, while we were getting ready to eat, this little whitetail rabbit hops out of a bush just across the creek -- I guess he had the same idea, wanting to go to the creek to rest. So the little guy hops out, starts looking and sniffing around to make sure he wasn’t in danger, and then goes over to the water to get a drink. Now, my dad sees this, and a huge smile spreads across his face. He always liked it when he was proved right, and the rabbit did just that.

“Anyway, Dad moves real slow, picking up the shotgun carefully so he doesn’t scare the little guy away. He gets down on one knee, shoulders the gun, and takes his time lining up the shot. Just before he pulls the trigger, though, he stops and looks back at me -- like he just then remembered I was there. He lowers his gun, puts it back on the ground… and then he picks up my gun, my little rifle. He gives it to me, and says very quietly, ‘Son, you take the shot.’ At first, I was real excited, thinking to myself ‘Wow, he’s gonna let me shoot it.’ But then, I line up the shot, and I start thinking about it hard. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to kill it, I mean, it wasn’t doing anything to me, just sitting there in the leaves drinking from a creek. So, I hesitated. I just stood there, holding up my tiny little rifle, keeping the sights right on his face -- right between the eyes.

“My dad sees this and starts egging me on, saying, ‘Come on, you can do it. Shoot it.’ But I’m really thinking about it now, and I realize, I don’t want to kill it. So, I start shaking my head no, but I keep my rifle up for some reason. My dad... he never liked being told no, so he gets a bit irritated. And then he just shouts, ‘SHOOT IT!’ at the top of his lungs. It echoes all through the forest, scares the shit out of the rabbit, and he jerks his little head up. This -- combined with my dad’s yelling -- startles me, and my hands clench. The gun goes off, and the rabbit just drops. No scream, no final hop, nothing. He just flops to the ground.

“Dad starts laughing, and praising me, saying ‘Good job, sport!’ He walks across the creek and picks it up, carries it over to our log, and holds it out to me. It had a little hole in its head, leaking blood. Right between the eyes. My dad, still smiling, tells me to take it. To hold it. I didn’t want to make him mad, so I put my rifle down and took the rabbit from him. It was… just the weirdest feeling ever. It was warm, but real stiff. Lifeless. Not how a rabbit should feel.”

I stopped talking for a second to breathe out a loud sigh, and then said, “You know, a part of me was excited and happy that I made my dad proud; but… I still had nightmares for a month after that. He didn’t take me out again for a long time. I think I was… twelve when I finally asked to go again. By then, I think I was old enough to handle it, so my next kill -- a… turkey, I think -- didn’t really hit me as hard.”

Rainbow Dash was quiet the entire time, listening to my tale with rapt attention. Even after I was done, she stayed silent, taking in my story. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she said, “So, how do you go from that… to…” she trailed off, but I knew what she was alluding to.

“It depends on the person. Some people never do. Some just go crazy. Me, I equalize it with hunting,” at her confused look, I elaborated, “When you hunt, you’re killing to survive. If that animal doesn’t die, then you die. The military is the same way; if you don’t kill the enemy, that enemy will kill you. So, that’s what you do. You kill in order to live.”

Dash was once again quiet for a minute, eventually saying, “So what about these guys?” she gestured towards the corpse behind us, “How is any of what they’re doing survival?”

Without hesitation, I said, “They are not soldiers, Dash,” I could feel the anger slowly rising inside me as I thought back to everything I’d witnessed so far that night. There was only one way I could describe our foes, “They’re monsters. Rabid animals that need to be put down before they can hurt anyone else.”

When she looked at me, I could see the fear in her eyes. Whether she was afraid of what my words meant, or just me, I had no idea. Eventually, the fear died down, replaced with a look of resignation. She sighed and asked, “So, what does that make us, then?”

Before responding, I held out her Makarov to her. She reached out, hesitating only a second, before wrapping a hand around the handle. As I let go of the weapon, I answered, “Tonight, we’re monster hunters.”

Author's Note

Quick note: the knife mentioned at the beginning of the chapter, I found an image that closely resembles what I originally had in mind. So, for future reference, this is what it looks like:

Image by FantasyStock and ConjalPowernet

So, after a brief hiatus, the next chapter is finally here! Sorry for the wait, but I had a bit of writer's block for awhile. But after talking to a friend about it, I was finally able to break through enough to get this out there. I know it's slow-paced compared to the last few chapters, but I felt that RD and James both would need a bit of a breather -- plus, I wanted to do a bit of character/relationship development.

For those wondering how nothing else important is going on during this little talk, it is because they have been magically transported to Soliloquy Land, where the rest of the universe around them doesn't exist for the length of time needed for the conversation. Is it a cop out? Maybe, but after what happened in the last chapter, I think Dashie needs it.

Next chapter is coming. Again, no clue when, but it will come. I'm not throwing in the towel just yet. I'll also try to stop posting blogs bitching about how I get stuck in my writing, but if it does happen, just... bear with me, please. Usually I just need a word of encouragement to keep me going.

As always, I appreciate any constructive criticism you can give me. I can't get better if I don't know my flaws, so please feel free to tell me. Just keep it respectful.

Chapter 14: Protocol Seven

Manehattan General Hospital - Research Laboratories

*Pop-pop!*

The limping, fleeing Royal Guardstallion dropped to the floor, two fresh holes opened up in the backplate of his armor. The griffon responsible didn’t even bat an eye as his prey fell. He simply lowered his submachine gun and began walking forward, accompanied by a female griffon from his squad. The two had been tasked with clearing that second-floor hallway, and so far, they had been making great progress. Not that there was much work to do in the first place; the main force had nearly wiped out the ponies on their run, leaving the clean-up crews with only a handful of things to shoot at.

As the griffons continued on, the female turned to her comrade and asked, “So, you think Steelclaw was serious?”

“About what?” the male replied.

“About the human, dumbass,” she said, her voice containing a heavy North accent*, “You really think one of them sided with the horses?”

“Who knows?” he shrugged, “There’s no figuring these hairless apes.”

Just then, a pony-shaped figure stumbled out from behind an overturned gurney ahead of them. He either didn’t notice the two griffons behind him, or he was attempting to sneak away. Either way, he put himself in the line of fire, and the griffons had their orders.

“I got this one,” the female griffon said. She raised her magnum revolver and, barely taking the time to aim, fired one shot. With a deafening BOOM, the gun discharged. The pony fell to the ground, a large hole having opened up on his back. With their newest quarry down, the griffon continued the conversation as if nothing had occurred. “If it is true, he must be important. Steelclaw doesn’t promise bonuses for just anyone.”

“You thinking of collecting?” the male asked her.

“Of course,” she nodded, “I’ve got three fledglings to feed back home, and the father got himself literally axed three missions back. I need all the bits I can get.”

“Fledglings?” her comrade questioned, raising an eyebrow, “Better not let the colonel find out. You know the rules about procreating.”

“He’s not going to find out,” she replied, before decking him in the shoulder, “So long as you keep your beak shut. Apart from me and my mother, you’re now the only one that knows, so if he does find out, I already know whose knot to sever.”

The male just laughed at this, “Don’t worry, Karla. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Just as the two came up on an intersection, they saw movement from the right. They couldn’t see much in the dark, but they could make out a figure crossing the adjacent hall -- a human figure. They couldn’t make out any details, but it was definitely human.

“Guess it’s my lucky day,” Karla whispered to her partner. She raised her revolver, carefully lining up the shot as the human stopped in the middle of the intersection and turned to look behind him.

“Karla, wait!” the male exclaimed a bit too late.

*BOOM!*

The human flew back from the force of the bullet’s impact. He skidded to a halt a good two feet from where he had been standing prior, dead before he hit the ground.

“Ha ha! Right through him!” Karla exclaimed with a smile. She held up her magnum triumphantly, “Gods, I love these things!”

“Damn it, Karla, I told you to wait!” her comrade yelled.

“Why?” she asked, giving him a confused look.

Before he could answer, several more figures appeared in the intersection -- all humans as well. They ducked behind the nearby walls, and a couple filed into the hallway and shouldered up to the nearest closed doorways. They all raised their bullpup assault rifles and aimed at the pair of griffons. The two just managed to jump behind two opposite doorways before the bullets started flying. As the rounds tore away at the drywall, they sunk deeper into their cover.

“I don’t think that was the right human!” the male commented, having to shout over the rapid gunfire.

“No shit, Lukas!” Karla replied, “You’re gonna have to call this one in. They won’t stop otherwise.”

“Alright,” he nodded, digging out his radio, “Cover me!”

As Karla began returning fire, having to blindly fire around the corner with her magnum, Lukas held the radio up to his beak and called up his commanders, “Team Six-Three to Nest, we’ve run into some complications.”

“What kind of complications?” came the gruff reply of the Nest’s radio operator, "What the hell’s going on back there?”

“It’s kinda hard to explain, but…” Lukas paused, searching for the best way to convey his message, “We have accidentally engaged with French military forces on the second-floor research wing; Sector Four.”

“You did what?!” the operator bellowed, “Gods dammi- wait one!”

*BOOM! … BOOM! … click!*

“Shit… reloading!” Karla exclaimed. Lukas heard empty casings fall to the ground.

“Just fucking great…” Lukas mumbled to himself as he swapped out the radio for his weapon. He checked the magazine, and leaned out from behind cover. He began firing wildly, trying to keep the aggravated Frenchmen suppressed until his comrade could reload.

<<<<<>>>>>

Manehattan - North Warehouse District, overlooking MGH

Atop a warehouse roof overlooking the hospital, Colonel Steelclaw continued to stare out at the sight before him. The night was still; the rain had stopped completely for the moment, and the distant gunfire was slowly dying down. The operation was almost over, with victory all but guaranteed. The only loose end left was the human, the apparent turncoat that Steelclaw had been ordered to eliminate. Soon, though, his griffons would deal with the human and his pony allies. Once they did, the job would be done. They would get paid, and could move on to the next phase of General Morrison’s “master plan”.

“Steelclaw!” an aged male voice called out from behind him.

The colonel turned to see an older griffon walking up to him, a flat expression on his face. Unlike the common Royal Griffon, who had white and golden-brown feathers, this one was colored with a midnight blue body and a jet black head, making his yellow beak and talons stand out much more. An Ebon Griffon. Also unlike the mercenaries around him, he was outfitted with medieval-style steel plate armor -- not a full suit; just the chest-and-backplates, paulders, and upper-leg pieces. Sheathed on his leather belt was a very ornate, falcon-themed scimitar with a thin, long, slightly curved blade and a curved hilt.

The colonel recognized the dark griffon immediately. Steelclaw smiled warmly and greeted him at his approach, “Elias, old friend! Good to see you. Come, join me in marveling at our assured victory!”

Elias’s expression didn’t change as he walked up to the beaming Royal Griffon, and he was quick to voice his concerns, “I still think this operation was a mistake, Steelclaw. I just got the latest report; we’ve lost thirty-two soldiers so far that we know of, probably even more. I don’t see how you expect us to re-strengthen ourselves after such losses… and for simple documents, at that?”

“Oh, Elias, I thought you knew better,” the old colonel sighed before diving into a small speech, “This is about far more than just those ‘simple’ documents. This is about completely reshaping the world! Shifting the balance of power across Equus in our client’s -- and, by extension, our -- favor.”

“You’ve never been interested in world politics before, Steel. In fact, you normally hate the mere mention of it. Why the change of mind now?”

“Because we’ve never had a chance like this before,” Steelclaw gestured with a talon to the scene behind him, “Tonight is just the beginning. Soon, we will have all of Equestria trembling at our paws! Celestia will be either imprisoned -- or dead -- our clients will be in power, and they will present us with the greatest payment we’ve ever earned!”

He waved his pointed hand to encompass the entirety of Manehattan, tracing the shoreline on the other side of the city. As his hand went, he continued, saying, “The entire eastern coast of Equestria, all under the control of the Griffon Empire! From here in Manehattan, all the way to Horseshoe Bay in Baltimare. We will return home not as mercenaries, not as the outcasts the king has labeled us as -- but as heros of the Empire! They will immortalize our names in song and stone, just as they did our ancestors!”

“You’re beginning to sound like my father, Steel,” Elias commented.

Steelclaw smiled and lowered his arm, saying, “Well, he did tutor me, as he did you.” He paused for a moment, as if in thought. He turned to look back at the hospital once more. “Speaking of your bloodline, Elias, has your fledgling reported in yet?”

The Ebon griffon’s expression darkened, “No, I haven’t. That’s the other reason I came up here, actually. He hasn’t checked in since he found those documents the clients wished to be secured.”

The colonel clicked his beak a couple of times before calling for one of his radio operators. Upon the operator’s arrival, Steelclaw asked, “How many teams do we have operating in Sector Four?”

“Teams Four and Six, sir,” the operator replied.

“Good. Contact them at once,” the colonel ordered, “Have one of them send a detachment further into the research wing and locate Lieutenant Gerulf. Once they do, I want him escorted here at once.”

“Understood, sir.”

Before the operator could turn away, the radio on his vest cracked to life, and the beginning of a message from Team Six came through. Steelclaw and Elias couldn’t make out the message, it being distorted by the distance and the nylon pouch shielding it, but the operator heard it clearly with his earpiece.

After listening to the message, the operator pressed a button on the earpiece and replied, “What kind of complications?” After a second of pause, he added, “What the hell’s going on back there?”

Elias and Steelclaw shot each other worried looks, with the former mumbling, “This can’t be good.”

“You did what?!” the operator shouted into the radio, “Gods dammi- wait one!” he released the button, and his gaze shifted to the colonel, “Sir, we have a problem. A few members of Team Six got themselves into a skirmish with our client’s forces. Shall I contact Fortress, let them know to back off?”

Colonel Steelclaw opened his beak to reply, but stopped. He brought a claw up to his beak, stroking it idly while he processed this turn of events. After a moment, a wicked smirk crossed his face and he replied, “No.”

“No?” Elias echoed with a look of shock.

“No,” the colonel repeated, “I believe, my friends, it is time to cover our tracks a bit,” he looked at the radio operator, “Tune your radio to the open channel, I want everygriffon to hear this. Tell them to initiate Protocol Seven.”

A chill ran down the operator’s back, but he knew better than to question orders, “It will be done, sir.”

As the griffon walked off, Elias turned to his white-headed friend. Unlike the rest of the griffons around them, he had no qualms voicing his concerns with the aging colonel, “Protocol Seven?! Have you gone mad, Steelclaw?”

“Quite the opposite, my old friend,” Steelclaw said, as he turned on his paws and began walking back up to the ledge of the roof. He once again gazed out on the battle before him, this time with renewed interest. He watched the occasional flashes from gunfire behind the windows grow in frequency as his griffons carried out their new orders.

Elias continued to gawk at his commander, confusion adorning his face. “How, exactly, does Protocol Seven help us in this situation? And what happens when the client finds ou-”

He was silenced by a single talon being held up by Steelclaw, and the colonel continuing to speak, “Do not worry about the client. I am sure General Morrison will understand my reasoning. After all, he approved the protocol in the first place -- and as for how it assists us, my friend, it keeps our involvement of this operation a secret from the Equestrian crown.”

“And the necessity of that is…?”

The colonel folded his arms behind his back. Still looking at the hospital, he replied, “If the princesses found out we were involved in their little war -- and working for their enemies, no less -- they would surely persecute all griffons in Equestria so as to prevent further incidents by stopping us in our tracks. You know as well as I do that part of our success in this endeavor will rely on our ability to blend into pony society. If every griffon from here to Las Pegasus is constantly under a magnifying glass, it will significantly hinder our tactical abilities.”

Elias let out a low hum of understanding, “I suppose there is wisdom in that. Though, I still am uneasy about getting involved at all…”

“Do not worry about that, my friend. In time, everything will fall into place.”

<<<<<>>>>>

Manehattan General Hospital - Research Laboratories

Inside the hospital, the griffons received their new orders. Apart from a group of six griffons that made haste to the research wing to locate their missing comrade, all teams followed the same order. Protocol Seven.

All throughout the halls and rooms of the building, the griffon mercenaries began turning their weapons on the one set of beings that did not expect it in the slightest. The French soldiers began falling as rapidly as the ponies had before them. Some ran into the griffons, and were forced to engage in short firefights that always led to a griffon victory. Others weren’t so lucky. The soldiers that had been willingly fighting beside the griffons didn’t receive any warning whatsoever. They were merely gunned down as they were walking, many shot in the back.

Private Crimson Flare witnessed one such skirmish firsthand. On Lieutenant Ivory Shadow’s orders, they were laying low in one of the many dark halls. A particularly large group of both griffons and human soldiers stood in their way. The group had halted their sweep of the building to contemplate one of Blackburn’s “X” marks on a wall. Two of the humans were debating on the legitimacy of the marking -- they hadn’t put it there, and no other squads they had come across had reported clearing the research wing. The bird-headed mercenaries among them simply waited, seeming bored at the lack of combat.

Crimson Flare was itching to give the griffons what they wanted, but he had his orders. He held back the urge to unload his entire magazine into the group. Instead, they waited. Watched.

Suddenly, one of the griffons nearest the two bickering humans received a radio transmission. He was wearing an earpiece, so it wasn’t audible to anyone but the griffons. Still, he listened intently. Once it seemed to be over, he responded with, “It will be done, commander.” He turned to a couple of his feathered comrades, all three exchanging curt nods. Then, with a steady claw, the lead griffon drew a semi-automatic pistol from his belt. He walked up to the human captain, one of the two debating the markings. The griffon didn’t even flinch as he placed the barrel of his pistol directly on the human’s head and pulled the trigger two times.

Before the blood from the captain’s skull could even finish coating the red “X” on the wall, the other griffons leveled their weapons at the remaining humans. Instantly, the hallway erupted in a barrage of automatic gunfire. The Frenchmen didn’t even have time to reach for their own weapons before the bullets began tearing them apart. They flopped and flailed as the rounds ripped chunks out of their torsos and their blood began painting the sterile white hallway a fresh shade of crimson.

As quickly as it had happened, it was over, with six new bodies joining the hundreds that already littered the hospital’s interior. The traitorous griffons barely took a moment to look over their handiwork before reloading their weapons and walking away. The only problem with that was that they were walking further into the research wing, in the same direction that the hiding ponies needed to go.

Crimson Flare sighed and turned to his lieutenant. He spoke in a hushed tone, “Well, that’s just great. What now?”

“We have to keep moving,” the orange-coated guardstallion offered, “If they reach Blackburn before we do…”

“It’ll be a fight, that’s for… ugh… sure,” Greyhound finished. Despite the bandages, he was still bleeding profusely from the bullet hole in his leg, and the painkillers only helped so much.

“You are in no condition to fight, corporal,” the doctor said condescendingly. He then turned to the lieutenant as well, “He’s barely been hanging on at the pace we’ve been going. He already might lose his leg at this point; we can’t just charge head-first into a combat situation.”

“But Sergeant Blackburn needs us, doctor,” Flare said.

“I don’t like this situation any more than you do, Private Flare,” the doctor replied, “But we need to be smart about this. We won’t do James any good if we just rush these griffons and get ourselves killed.”

Ivory listened to everypony in silence, weighing their options. They all had valid points, which made the decision that much harder to make. She wasn't about to send what little remained of her troops to simply be shot down, especially if it put the civilians in danger; but Blackburn didn't know how close the enemy was. If they caught up with him, and he wasn't expecting it…

After a moment of internal debate, Ivory looked around at the survivors she had been leading up to that point. She specifically eyed the only two able-bodied stallions she had left.

“You two, go,” she said evenly, “Stay low, follow them. Only engage if they attack you or Sergeant Blackburn first. We will stay back a moment, and follow you at a distance.”

Both stallions nodded curtly in reply. Without a word, the two got up from their previous crouching positions and started moving, following the path that the griffons had taken. They stayed low, being careful not to give away their positions. They kept the griffon mercenaries in sight, but were far enough back to not be seen.

Eventually, the griffons came to a stop outside a glass-walled room lined with floor cabinets, with a large island in the center. The griffons did a tactical sweep of the area, prompting the two stallions following them to hide inside doorways. They kept their rifles up, waiting to see the griffons’ next move.

Once the griffons believed their surroundings were clear, they seemed to grow confused. The leader of the group holstered his pistol and reached a talon up to his ear, pressing down on his earpiece’s “call” button. He was close enough to Crimson Flare for him to hear the griffon’s side of the conversation.

“We’ve reached the location. He’s not here… Yes, commander, I’m sure… Alright, understood.” The griffon ended the call and turned to his underlings. “Steelclaw wants this entire area searched. Check all of the rooms.”

The mercenaries began spreading out, following orders without question. Crimson saw a team of four heading towards a closed door on the other side of the glass-walled room. A pair of Ebon Griffons chose to go the opposite direction, getting very close to the hidden ponies’ hiding place.

Shit, Crimson thought as he flicked his rifle’s safety off, This is going to get messy.

Author's Note

*North accent = Irish-sounding

BACK FROM THE DEAD!

But seriously, this took much, much longer than it should have. Four months without an update is just ridiculous, and I sincerely apologize.

This chapter was actually going to be longer, but I ran into a few... complications with what was originally the last part, so I decided to cut it out and use it as an opening for Chapter 15. Probably for the best, as it was going on 7,000 words with that part in, and let's face it, that is ludicrously long compared to most of the other chapters.

Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, even if our dynamic duo didn't even appear in it. But hey, they got a chapter to themselves last time, so it's fair, right?

Not even going to attempt to set a date for the next chapter. The complications I ran into are still very much present, and as it stands it will take some reworking and replotting to fix. Not sure how long that will take. But I will try my level best not to let it take four months like this one did. Again, sorry about that.

As always, constructive criticism is encouraged and very much appreciated.